BANCROFT 
LIBRARY 

o 

THE  LIBRARY 

OF 

THE  UNIVERSITY 
OF  CALIFORNIA 


t* 


THE   WILL   AND 


THE   WAY    STORIES 


BY 

JESSIE   BENTON    FREMONT 

Author  of  "  Souvenirs  of  My  Time,"  "  Far  West  Sketches, 
and  others 


BOSTON 
D     LOTHROP     COMPANY 

WASHINGTON    STREET   OPPOSITE    BROM FIELD 


COPYRIGHT,    1891, 

BY 
E  BBNTON  FREMONT 


CONTENTS. 


'  I 

•** 

«— \  J^-  ^o 

'• 


I. 

THE   "  DECK-HAND  "  9 

II. 
KIT   CARSON 23 

III. 
A   PICNIC   NEAR   THE    EQUATOR          .  5 1 

IV. 
PLAY  AND   WORK 75 

V. 
A   LONG    HORROR     .....  9° 


CONTENTS. 
VI. 

"MISSMILLY"        .  .100 

VII. 

THE   TWO   WILLS      ...  .  1  19 

VIII. 
THE    HAT   OF    THE    POSTMASTER         .  .  144 

IX. 
THE   GOOD   SAMARITAN     .  .  *  .  167 


THE     WILL 
AND    THE     WAY. 


i. 

THE  "DECK-HAND." 

THE  boys  of  Mr.  Fountain's  school  were 
delighted  when  he  told  them  he  should 
take  them  that  evening  to  a  lecture  in  the  town ; 
not  that  they  cared  a  %  for  the  lecture,  but  it 
was  a  chance  to  get  out,  and  in  place  of  the  quiet 
study-room  there  would  be  the  jolly  walk  by 
moonlight  down  the  frozen  hillside,  with  slides 
and  snowballing  instead  of  books.  Then  the 
bright  lecture-room  gay  with  all  the  young  peo- 
ple of  the  town  smiling  and  nodding  to  them 
in  the  telegraph-signal  way  young  people  knew 
long  before  real  telegraphs  were  invented. 

9 


10  THE 

The  lecture  itself  might  have  been  on  astron- 
omy or  prehistoric  man  and  it  would  have  been 
exactly  as  welcomed  by  them  ;  they  had  no  idea 
of  using  their  ears,  only  their  eyes. 

But  they  were  surprised  into  deep  interest. 
A  wiry  but  strong  man  about  fifty  years  of  age 
began  at  once  to  tell  them  he  was  glad  to  meet 
so  many  young  people  ;  that  as  they  had 
marched  in,  their  uniformed  corps,  their  bright, 
healthy  looks  and  elastic-trained  steps  made 
him  see  the  good  preparation  they  were  having 
for  a  disciplined  and  useful  future  ;  that  he  felt 
it  his  opportunity  to  give  them  in  their  young 
and  impressionable  phase  the  warning  that  ex- 
perience had  qualified  him  to  give,  and  the  ex- 
ample of  perseverance  and  will  required  to 
regain  an  upright  life,  which  his  experience  also 
qualified  him  to  prove  was  possible  —  "  possible, 
with  a  steadfast  will  and  God's  help." 

And  he  told  them  his  story  :  the  story  of  a 
pleasant  New  England  home  where  he  too  had 
been  a  happy  schoolboy,  rejoicing  in  winter 


II 

sleighings  and  skatings  and  the  cheery  home- 
life  around  the  big  fire  —  the  happy  summers  of 
farm-work  and  study  —  of  his  parents'  love  and 
pride  in  him  :  "  I  was  a  quick  and  bright  boy, 
and  they  thought  I  would  come  to  a  high  name, 
for  I  loved  to  study  as  well  as  to  play*" 

And  so  his  young  life  went  on,  steadily  up- 
wards, through  the  home  school  then  until  he 
was  nearly  through  college.  He  had  grown 
away  from  the  simpler  and  loving  home  influ- 
ences and  had  been  made  to  think  many  things 
only  "  manly  "  and  "  like  a  good  fellow  "  which 
in  the  home  he  had  been  taught  were  wrong. 

But  with  the  wish  to  be  "  a  good  fellow  "  and 
the  unwillingness  to  lose  popularity  by  refusing 
to  drink,  he  made  the  break  that  let  in  ruin  ; 
"  friendly  drinks "  were  the  beginning  of  the 
end.  He  told  of  his  broken  career  —  the 
dismissal  from  college  —  the  distress  of  his 
home  —  his  debts — his  father's  sorrow  and 
anger  —  his  father's  death  —  his  own  remorse 
and  flight  from  home  as  far  as  he  could  get  to 


12  THE    "  DECK-HAND. 

the  South ;  and  there,  of  his  quick  falling  lower 
and  lower,  from  his  brief  efforts  to  reform  into 
longer  periods  of  drinking  until  he  found  him- 
self so  degraded  by  it  that  he  was  finally  forced 
by  hunger  to  take  the  lowest  employment  a 
white  man  could  then  have  —  this  was  a  good 
many  years  before  our  late  war  —  the  place  of 
"  deck-hand  "  on  a  Mississippi  steamboat. 

By  this  he  was  put  entirely  among  a  low  and 
dangerous  class  of  negro  slaves  ;  men  whose 
violent  natures  or  whose  passion  for  drink  made 
them  unsafe  for  usual  plantation  work.  Crimi- 
nal and  dangerous  negroes  were  not  put  in  jail 
then  ;  that  would  have  been  a  loss  to  the  master 
of  the  profits  of  their  labor.  So  he  became 
one  in  a  gang  of  the  worst  characters  and  — 
what  was  then  held  as  worse  yet  —  worked  with 
black  men. 

Under  the  rough  and  even  cruel  control  that 
could  be  enforced  on  board  the  boat  these  men 
were  kept  in  check  —  to  break  out  at  times 
fiercely  among  themselves,  or  on  getting  ashore. 


THE    "  DECK-HAND."  13 

I  do  not  know  how  they  manage  now,  but  in 
the  old  day  fuel  for  steam  was  supplied  at  fre- 
quent "landings,"  where  long  lines  of  cord- 
wood  were  kept  ready  for  the  boats ;  the  steamer 
was  run  alongside  the  bank  and  the  crew  rushed 
to  "wood-up."  Often  there  was  a  question  of 
speed,  a  race  in  fact,  between  boats  bound  for 
the  same  port,  and  no  time  must  be  lost ;  so, 
what  with  the  spirit  of  rivalry,  the  cursing,  the 
cracking  raw-hides  of  the  gang-masters,  the 
eagerness  of  the  men  themselves  to  run  off 
the  boat  and  have  a  change  from  their  hot  work 
there  of  keeping  up  the  furnace  — and,  always, 
the  vague,  wild  hope  of  "  running  away,"  fixed 
in  their  minds  —  the  scene  was  wild.  Especially 
after  nightfall  when  the  furnaces  were  opened 
and  the  glare  turned  on  the  bank,  and  many 
pine  torches  lit  up  the  scene  of  rushing,  hurry- 
ing, stalwart  black  figures  naked  to  the  waist 
and  glistening  wet  with  heat. 

Always  the  gangs  of    negroes  sang;  quick, 
wild  songs  to  which   they  kept  time   as    they 


14  THE  "DECK-HAND." 

swarmed  up  the  bank  and  ran  back  with  their 
strong  arms  rilled  with  the  long  heavy  wood. 

Often  when  the  boat  was  off  again  and  dark- 
ness closed  all  in  and  the  strong  sound  of  the 
engines  and  rush  of  the  mighty  river  made  the 
accompaniment,  they  sang  in  another  way.  A 
wailing  chant,  sad  beyond  the  power  of  written 
music  to  tell  in  its  suggestive  intonations. 
One  subdued  melodious  voice  sang  the  recita- 
tive broken  into  by  an  irregular  chorus,  har- 
monized though  so  wildly  irregular  —  voices 
rising,  wavering,  in  prolonged  lament  —  calls 
of  rage,  of  despair  —  sinking  again  to  the  con- 
trolling but  subdued  solo  of  the  leader  —  the 
Improvisatore — who  would  touch  some  other 
chord  of  feeling  that  again  roused  this  storm  of 
emotion  in  a  chorus  form.  I  was  thirteen  when 
I  heard  for  the  last  time  these  true  "folk-songs  " 
of  a  suppressed  race.  When  I  saw  Dore"s 
illustrations  of  the  lost  souls  in  torment  this 
singing  came  back  to  me  as  their  fit  expression 
to  the  ear. 


THE  "DECK-HAND."  15 

Young  as  I  was  then  it  made  me  shudder  and 
get  closer  to  my  father.  His  favorite  place  was 
the  extreme  bow-end  of  the  "saloon-deck" 
where  he  could  get  the  cool  rush  of  the  river 
air  as  the  boat  pressed  swiftly  on.  Below  on 
the  projecting  "  boiler-deck  "  were  always  mov- 
ing silent  figures,  "deck-hands  tending  furnace  " 
and  making  every  chance  to  get  forward  into 
the  unheated  air  at  the  bow  —  fantastic  figures, 
scarcely  clothed,  gleaming  with  wet  from  their 
hot  work,  their  big  powerful  bodies  and  naked 
limbs  taking  every  tone  of  bronzes  in  the  fur- 
nace-lights, then  vanishing  mysteriously  as  they 
passed  into  shadow.  From  out  this  Plutonian 
dark  would  rise  the  wailing  chant,  and  farther 
voices  took  up  the  lament  which  passed  from 
entreaty  to  fury  —  then  submission,  then  the 
low  dull  recitative  continued  alone. 

Talking  was  not  permitted  —  it  might  not 
have  been  nice  for  the  passengers  to  overhear 
—  but  singing  was  allowed. 

And  this  was  the  level  to  which  this  educated 


l6  THE 

New  England  young  man  had  fallen  through 
drink.  It  made  him  ashamed  and  angry,  and 
he  kept  intoxicated  to  forget. 

On  the  passage  up  from  New  Orleans  he  had 
noticed  day  after  day  a  passenger  always  in  the 
same  place  and  always  in  the  white  linen  cloth- 
ing common  to  the  hot  season  —  looking  all  the 
more  freshly  cool  from  his  fair  skin  and  tawny 
hair  and  blue  eyes ;  eyes  that  were  often  lifted 
from  the  little  book  he  carried,  and  seemed  to 
take  in  the  river,  its  fertile  banks,  and,  the 
young  man  fancied,  at  times  rested  on  himself. 

This  further  angered  him.  He  had  already 
realized  his  degraded  position,  and  this  contrast 
made  it  seem  more  terrible  and  hopeless.  It 
helped  move  him  to  furious  passion  in  his  re- 
sentment of  some  indignity  put  upon  him  by 
the  gang-master,  and  there  followed  a  fierce 
but  wordy  scene  ;  for,  being  white,  he  could  not 
be  silenced  as  the  blacks  were,  by  the  stinging 
cowhide. 

Sleeping  off  the  drunken  state  that  followed 


THE  "DECK-HAND."  17 

he  woke  near  midnight.  He  was  on  the  bare 
deck  at  the  bow  and  the  moon  lit  up  a  white 
figure  standing  by  him.  It  was  the  person 
whose  presence  had  so  roused  old  feelings  and 
made  him  realize  his  miserable  downfall. 

He  sprang  up  with  an  oath  and  was  hurrying 
off  when  the  other  held  out  a  detaining  hand. 
"  My  friend,"  he  said  (oh !  how  long  since  any 
one  had  said  my  friend  to  him),  "my  friend, 
you  have  evidently  had  a  classical  education. 
When  you  were  angry  this  evening,  I  heard  you 
using  expressions  that  showed  you  had  careful 
and  high  training.  This  is  not  a  fit  place  for 
you.  With  your  education,  your  youth  and 
health,  you  can  renew  your  former  life.  You 
must  leave  this  boat  to-night  when  we  stop  at 
Cairo,  and  drop  all  these  associations  forever. 
I  am  not  a  rich  man,  but  I  can  help  you  to  a  start 
on  the  upward  road." 

"  And  he  took  from  his  waistcoat  pocket  fifty 
dollars  in  gold  and  put  it  into  my  begrimed 
hand,"  said  the  lecturer.  "  He  said  he  had 


i8 

spoken  to  the  captain  and  arranged  it  all. 
'  You  will  transfer  to  the  Louisville  steamer  we 
meet  at  Cairo.  Take  a  cabin's  passage.  Begin 
with  self-respect.  Begin  this  night  a  new  life. 
Go  to  your  father  and  mother  and  ask  their 
help  to  keep  you  in  the  right  way.' 

"I  told  him  I  had  helped  end  my  father's 
life,  and  had  been  afraid  to  learn  of  home. 
'  Find  your  mother  and  atone  to  her.  A  mother 
will  forgive  you  and  love  you.' 

"  And  when  I  wanted  to  get  his  name,  that  I 
might  some  day  return  him  the  money,  he  only 
said,  '  Never  mind  that,  but  when  you  have 
freed  yourself  give  it  to  some  one  needing  it  as 
you  were  —  use  it  to  help  another.' 

"  I  felt  I  could,  I  would  stop  drinking. 

"  I  did.  I  left  the  shameful  life  behind  me 
when  I  took  the  other  boat.  As  the  day  dawned 
I  turned  my  face  East,  and  made  my  way  to  the 
old  home,  where  I  found  my  mother.  And  I 
did  atone  to  her  —  all  I  could  —  and  her  last 
days  were  in  peace  and  happiness. 


THE  "DECK-HAND."  19 

"  As  soon  as  I  could  I  made  my  education 
help  me  to  stand  firm,  and  lead  others  from 
going  down  as  I  had  done.  It  was  slow  and 
hard  work  for  a  long  time,  to  work  against 
myself,  but  I  persevered,  and  I  have  now 
secured  usefulness  and  success  as  a  lecturer  on 
temperance. 

"  For  a  long  time  I  had  not  the  spare  money 
for  travel,  and  when  I  had  it  was  too  late  for 
me  to  go  and  see  and  thank  the  man  who  had 
come  to  me  in  the  darkest  hour  like  a  vision  of 
light.  I  had  found  who  he  was,  and  written  to 
him  when  I  felt  myself  reestablished ;  and  told 
him  I  had  passed  on  his  blessed  fifty  dollars  to 
do  for  another  the  good  it  had  brought  me  ;  but 
I  grieve  that  I  never  saw  him  again.  You  all 
know  his  name,  for  he  was  one  of  our  great 
senators,  and  his  long  life  was  full  of  usefulness 
to  his  country  —  he  was  Senator  Benton  of 
Missouri. 

"  I  charge  you,  as  he  charged  me,  to  value 
education,  to  profit  by  every  chance  for  study 


20  THE   "  DECK-HAND." 

and  reading.  Use  all  your  will  to  live  up  to 
the  best  —  to  overcome  idleness,  for  it  brings 
temptation  and  evil.  And  love  and  honor  your 
parents  —  above  all  the  mother. 

"  I  always  feel,"  he  ended,  "  when  I  tell  of 
this  part  of  my  life  that  I  repay  some  of  the 
debt  I  owe  to  that  man  of  high  character,  and 
pray  that  it  may  carry  with  it  some  of  the  influ- 
ence of  his  strong  will." 

When  the  lecturer  ended,  Mr.  Fountain  rose 
and  asked  to  say  a  few  words.  He  was  a  man 
greatly  respected,  and  his  long-established  school 
had  made  him  so  trusted  and  recognized  as  a 
good  man  and  good  head  of  a  school  for  boys 
that  the  sons  of  former  scholars  were  sent  to 
him  from  all  parts  of  the  country. 

He  thanked  the  lecturer  for  the  interesting 
talk  and  felt  it  would  remain  impressed  on  the 
minds  of  his  pupils  —  especially  the  one  who  had 
been  listening  to  a  noble  action  of  his  grandfather 
—  and  he  called  out  one  of  his  young  people  who 
came  forward  blushing,  but  proud. 


21 

And  the  lecturer,  with  real  feeling,  took  the 
hand  of  the  grandson  of  his  friend  and  said  to 
him,  and  to  all  the  young  men  present,  some  brief, 
heartfelt  words  of  warning  against  temptation ; 
and  encouragement  to  hold  out  the  helping 
hand,  and  believe  in  the  power  of  good  to  tri- 
umph over  evil  —  "  with  the  aid  of  a  steadfast 
will  and  God's  help." 

Was  not  this  a  precious  and  delightful  fact  of 
family  history  to  come  upon  ?  It  had  been 
unknown  to  me  —  perhaps  to  all  except  the 
unhappy  young  man  and  my  father  himself;  for 
my  father  was  strong  and  helping  because  it 
was  his  nature  to  be  so,  and  could  not  turn 
away  from  need  in  any  form. 

His  own  love  of  study  and  reading  would 
have  quickened  his  sympathy  for  a  white  man 
working  among  negro  criminals  who  yet  re- 
sented an  indignity  and  used  a  classic  phrase. 

His  own  practice  and  teaching  were  all  on 
the  side  of  temperance  and  that  in  a  part  of 
our  country  where  public  feeling  sneered  at 


22  THE    "  DECK-HAND." 

temperance  and  where  it  was  held  as  want  of 
hospitality  not  to  press  upon  every  one,  young 
and  old,  wines  and  "  strong  waters  "  from  early 
morn  to  night. 

Something  my  father  saw  while  he  was  a  very 
young  man  —  a  painful  occurrence  in  a  private 
house  —  so  filled  his  mind  with  hatred  of  this 
mistaken  idea  of  the  beautiful  grace  of  hospi 
tality,  that  I  have  heard  him  tell  how,  sorrow- 
fully riding  homewards  and  thinking  of  the 
scene  of  shame  this  had  caused,  he  resolved 
for  his  part  to  drink  nothing;  he  has  told  us 
how  he  stopped  his  horse  and  bared  his  head 
and  there  alone  among  the  trees  made  avow  — 
to  himself  —  not  to  touch  any  wine  or  "drink  " 
of  any  kind  for  five  years.  And  he  kept  his  vow. 
To  the  cooler  natures  of  to-day  this  might  seem 
fantastic  ;  but  people  were  younger  of  heart  in 
that  time  and  not  ashamed  of  fine  impulses. 
And  with  my  father  this  good  warm  nature 
never  tamed  down  into  calculation  where  he 
found  the  dragon  of  evil  to  slay. 


II. 

KIT  CARSON. 

A  BRAVE  sight  was  "  Her  Majesty's  ship 
Collingwood,  eighty  guns,  Flagship  of  the 
English  squadron  in  the  Pacific,  Admiral  Sir 
George  Seymour  commanding,"  as  she  came  to 
before  the  small  Mexican  town  of  Monterey 
on  the  California  coast.  She  came  to  raise 
the  English  flag  "in  protectorate"  over  this 
distant  Mexican  territory  and  "hold  it  safe 
from  American  aggression  "  during  our  war  with 
Mexico.  When  the  British  Lion  protects  such 
stray  lambs  of  territory  it  is  apt  to  keep  them 
safe. 

But  as  the  great  ship  drew  near  the  coast 
there  shone  out  against  its  dark  line  of  pine 
forest   a  patch  of  color  —  small  but  of   great 
23 


24  KIT   CARSON. 

meaning  —  our  flag.  Our  banner  on  the  outer 
wall  of  a  nation  that  "  now  held  the  country 
from  sea  to  sea  —  from  the  Atlantic  to  the 
Pacific  —  upon  a  breadth  equal  to  the  length  of 
the  Mississippi  and  embracing  the  whole  tem- 
perate zone." 

The  disappointment  and  check  to  Admiral 
Seymour  was  immense,  but  he  was  too  late  by 
nine  days.  "  If  I  had  not  found  your  flag  up  I 
would  have  raised  mine  there,"  he  said  to  our 
fleet  commander,  and  so  loth  was  he  to  accept 
it  as  a  defeat  and  final,  that  he  left  official 
orders  to  all  British  consuls  on  the  coasts  to 
treat  it  only  as  a  "  temporary  occupation  "  not 
to  be  decided  until  after  peace  had  returned. 

But  the  Stars  and  Stripes  had  been  raised, 
never  to  come  down  :  by  Americans,  inland,  on 
the  fifth  of  July,  1846;  following  this,  two 
days  later,  on  the  seventh,  at  the  coast  town  of 
Monterey  by  the  commander  of  our  squadron 
in  the  Pacific;  and  when  on  the  sixteenth  Admi- 
ral Seymour  arrived  he  was  too  late.  It  had 


KIT    CARSON.  25 

been  a  close  race  for  an  empire  and  we  won. 
A  strange  feeling  the  English  admiral  must  have 
had  on  realizing  what  to  him  would  seem  such 
inadequate  force  to  have  defeated  great  England : 
by  sea  only  four  not  imposing  ships  ;  over- 
land "  this  wildest  wild  party  of  backwoodsmen," 
with  only  one  officer  of  the  army  as  their  com- 
mander ;  narrow  risks  where  a  single  life  held 
all  the  purpose  and  responsibility  of  the  com- 
mand. But  made  up  of  men  of  rare  individual 
force  of  character,  and  each  had  so  supported 
their  captain  and  one  another  that  they  won 
through  to  success. 

It  brings  to  mind  the  story  of  that  English 
officer  so  often  wounded,  so  shot  to  pieces  in 
the  peninsula  campaign,  that  finding  himself 
hopelessly  disabled  and  mutilated  he  wrote  to 
the  dear  woman  who  was  to  be  his  wife  releas- 
ing her  —  "for  there  is  nothing  left  of  me." 

"  If  you  have  only  body  enough  left  to  hold 
your  soul  I  will  marry  you,"  was  her  answer. 

The  small  party  with  its  one  officer  proved 


2O  KIT   CARSON. 

to  be  body  enough  to  carry  forward  and  plant 
the  flag  —  the  symbol  and  soul  of  our  national 
life. 

These  tried  and  proved  men  were  too  many 
and  of  too  real  merit  to  be  told  of  in  this  scant 
way ;  but  of  one,  Carson,  I  can  tell  you  an  outline. 

An  officer  of  the  Collingwood  published  his 
travels,  "Four  Years  in  the  Pacific  on  Her  Maj- 
esty's Ship,  Collingwood^  by  Lieut.  Hon.  Fred.  Wal- 
pok,  R.  N."  and  being  a  Walpole,  of  that  family 
of  statesmen  and  men  of  letters,  he  not  only 
wrote  of  what  he  saw,  but  felt  its  bearing  — 
that  these  "backwoodsmen"  represented  the 
advance  guard  of  American  progress. 

.  .  .  "  During  our  stay  in  Monterey  Captain  Fre"- 
mont  and  his  party  arrived.  They  naturally  excited  curi- 
osity. Here  were  true  trappers,  the  class  that  produced 
the  heroes  of  Fenimore  Cooper's  best  works.  These 
men  had  passed  years  in  the  wilds,  living  upon  their  own 
resources;  they  were  a  curious  set.  A  vast  cloud  of 
dust  appeared  first  and  thence  in  long  file  emerged  this 
wildest  wild  party.  .  .  .  Fremont  rode  ahead,  a 
spare,  active-looking  man.  .  .  .  He  was  dressed  in  a 
blouse  and  leggings  and  wore  a  felt  hat.  After  him  came 


KIT   CARSON.  27 

five  Delaware  Indians  who  have  been  with  him  through 
all  his  wanderings ;  they  had  charge  of  two  baggage 
horses.  The  rest,  many  of  them  blacker  than  the  In- 
dians, rode  two  and  two,  the  rifle  held  by  one  hand  across 
the  pommel  of  the  saddle.  His  original  men  are  prin- 
cipally backwoodsmen  from  the  Western  States  and  the 
upper  banks  of  the  Missouri.  He  has  one  or  two  with 
him  who  enjoy  a  high  reputation  on  the  prairies.  Kit 
Carson  is  as  well  known  there  as  the  Duke  is  in  Europe. 
.  .  .  They  are  altowed  no  liquor,  tea  and  coffee  only ; 
this  no  doubt  has  much  to  do  with  their  good  conduct, 
and  the  discipline  too  is  very  strict.  They  were  marched 
up  to  an  open  space  on  the  hills  near  the  town  under 
some  long  firs  and  there  took  up  their  quarters  in  messes 
of  six  or  seven  in  the  open  air.  The  Indians  lay  beside 
their  leader.  ...  In  justice  to  the  Americans  I 
must  say  they  seemed  to  treat  the  natives  well  and  their 
authority  extended  every  protection  to  them."  . 

How  Carson  had  already  made  for  himself 
wherever  he  was  known  a  name  which  Lieuten- 
ant Walpole  compares  to  that  of  the  Duke  of 
Wellington,  "the  good  gray  head  that  all  men 
knew,"  is  too  long  to  cramp  into  this  way  of 
writing,  but  he  did  make  himself  known  and 
loved  and  trusted  ;  and  also  feared  by  "  bad 
whites"  as  well  as  the  regular  enemy,  the 


28  KIT    CARSON. 

Indian.  He  became  of  large  service  to  his 
country  in  two  wars,  rising  by  force  of  will  and 
personal  qualities  to  the  height  of  his  ambition 
which  was,  to  wear  his  country's  uniform  as  an 
officer  and  serve  that  country  in  time  of  danger. 
This  was  a  great  rise  from  his  obscure  un- 
friended beginning  as  a  boy  on  the  Missouri 
frontier  where  Indians  were  many  and  schools 
few.  The  prairies  with  their  mountains  beyond 
crowded  with  tempting  game  yet  full  of  forbid- 
ding savages,  enticed  the  imagination  of  frontier 
lads  as  the  sea  and  its  chances  tempt  the  sea- 
coast  boys.  Yearly,  there  left  Saint  Louis, 
which  was  the  port  for  such  inland  ventures, 
great  caravans  ;  merchants  and  fur  traders  with 
long  wagon-trains  of  merchandise  banded  for 
mutual  protection  against  the  Indians,  bound 
for  Santa  Fe  in  Mexico  and  on  further  still  even 
to  the  "  Sea  of  Cortez,"  as  the  Gulf  of  Califor- 
nia was  then  called.  This  rich  trade  by  way  of 
the  "  Spanish  trail,"*  sent  a  returning  stream 

*  Now  the  Boston,  Santa  Fe  &  Pacific  R.  R. 


KIT   CARSON.  29 

of  pearls  and  gold  from  the  Gulf,  and  Sonoras 
gold  and  silver,  and  much  coined  money  from 
the  Mexican  states,  back  to  St.  Louis.  Big  gold 
doubloons  and  onzas  (ounces),  the  heavy  silver 
dollar  and  the  little  picallion  (picayune)  were  the 
common  currency  there  even  in  my  early  day. 

Inevitably  lads  ran  away  to  join  these  cara- 
vans and  some  came  back,  but  after  a  long  time, 
on  fine  horses  with  splendid  silver-mounted 
saddles  and  heavy  jingling  silver  spurs,  and 
gold-embroidered  velvet  Spanish  riding-suits  and 
a  fine  smattering  of  Mexican  Spanish ;  or  they 
had  accumulated  stores  of  rich  furs  by  trap- 
ping beaver  and  selling  them  to  the  fur  company. 
While  their  money  lasted  they  made  a  great  sen- 
sation and  sowed  harvests  of  longing  and  dissat- 
isfaction among  youngsters  in  quiet  farming  life. 

On  such  a  venture  started  Kit  Carson  while 
he  was  yet  very  young  ;  with  only  fancies  —  no 
knowledge  beyond  the  tales  of  returned  trap- 
pers and  traders.  That  there  .were  far  more 
blanks  than  prizes  did  not  discourage  him  ;  the 


30  KIT   CARSON. 

knowledge  of  the  many  solitary  trappers  cruelly 
tortured  and  killed  by  Indians  and  long  after 
traced  by  bits  of  mouldering  garment  and  bones 
pulled  about  by  the  wolves  never  dimmed  his 
fixed  aim  to  be  a  great  hunter  and  trapper,  and  to 
this  he  held  fast  through  early  bad  luck  enough 
to  wear  out  a  less  positive  will  and  a  less  sunshiny 
nature  —  for  Carson  had  the  "  merry  heart  "  that 
Shakespeare  knew  "goes  all  the  day."  He  had 
that  most  lovable  combination  of  a  happy  and 
reasoning  patience  under  trial,  with  quick  re- 
source and  a  courage  equal  to  all  proof. 

His  reputation  was  already  made  in  prairie 
land  and  its  headquarters,  Saint  Louis,  when, 
after  one  of  his  rare  visits  there,  he  first  met  on 
a  steamboat  ascending  the  Missouri  River  the 
one  who  was  to  give  the  largest  and  highest  de- 
velopment to  his  special  gifts  and  acquirements, 
and  for  many  years  his  life  and  Mr.  Fremont's 
ran  together.  These  two  and  a  Frenchman  of 
Saint  Louis,  Alexis  Godey,  became,  each  in  their 
way,  necessary  parts  one  of  the  other  and,  like 


KIT    CARSON.  31 

the  Three  Guardsmen  of  Dumas'  story,  felt 
nothing  impossible  which  they  could  undertake 
together. 

"  Under  Napoleon  they  might  have  become  marshals, 
chosen  as  he  chose  men ;  Carson  prompt,  self-sacrificing, 
of  great  courage,  quick  and  complete  perception,  taking 
in  at  a  glance  the  advantages  as  well  as  the  chances  for 
defeat ;  Godey  insensible  to  danger,  of  perfect  coolness 
and  stubborn  resolution,  with  French  Man  and  their 
gayety  of  courage." 

Like  the  Guardsmen  in  the  romance  these 
dropped  everything  else  to  renew  adventures 
and  dangers  at  the  call  of  their  old  leader. 

More  than  once  each  had  saved  the  others' 
lives,  and  together  they  had  punished  the  Indians 
for  the  killing  of  their  comrades.  And  in  one 
stirring  fray,  where  treachery  as  well  as  killing 
had  to  receive  its  lesson  of  punishment,  even  the 
captain's  horse  took  such  intelligent  part  in  his 
rider's  feeling  that  Carson's  life  was  actually 
saved  by  the  horse  —  a  California  horse  of  fine 
breed  and  high  training  who  obeyed  the  lightest 


32  KIT   CARSON. 

impulse  from  the  rider.  His  name  was  given 
him  because  he  swam  the  wide  deep  Sacramento 
River  after  a  day's  travel  of  eighty  miles. 
"The  Captain  and  *  Sacramento'  —  the  two  — 
saved  my  life  that  time,"  said  Carson. 

It  was  in  the  Tlamath  and  Modoc  Indian 
country,  near  the  Oregon  boundary.  An  un- 
known land  then,  but  its  Indians  suspiciously 
alert  and  intelligent — in  later  years  these 
became  known  as  both  treacherous  and  warlike  ; 
their  killing  of  the  good  General  Canby  while 
in  council  will  be  remembered. 

Some  Tlamaths  had  followed  the  exploring 
party,  saying  they  were  starving,  and  begging 
food.  "  The  Captain  had  a  horse  unpacked,  and 
shared  with  them  though  we  had  little  enough 
for  ourselves,"  tells  Carson.  At  dead  of  night 
these  same  Indians,  with  their  warriors  for  whom 
they  had  acted  as  spies,  attacked  the  camp*  and 
the  man  sleeping  next  Carson  was  killed  first. 

*  It  was  the  second  time  only  in  all  their  years  of  travel  that  they 
failed  to  set  the  guard. 


KIT    CARSON.  33 

"  It  was  the  licks  of  the  axe  that  split  Basil's 
head  that  woke  me,"  said  Carson,  and  as  they 
jumped,  rifle  in  hand,  to  the  crowding-in  Indians, 
he  found  himself  side  by  side  with  his  friend 
and  captain  and  they  together  ended  that  In- 
dian's life.  He  proved  to  be  the  very  one  for 
whom  they  had  unpacked  the  horse  in  the  morn- 
ing. Two  of  our  best  men  were  killed  and 
more  wounded  by  the  sharp  arrow-heads,  almost 
as  hard  as  diamond,  of  vitrified  lava.  Several 
Tlamaths  were  killed  and  many  wounded, 
though  as  Indians  always  carry  off  their  dead 
and  wounded  it  could  not  be  known  how  many. 
But  at  once  our  party  turned  back  "  to  give  them 
a  lesson." 

It  was  a  country  of  large  lakes,  and  these 
tribes  gathered  in  fishing  villages  with  huts  of 
willow  and  rushes,  fishing  nets,  drying  scaffolds 
and  canoes.  There  followed  a  continued  fight 
of  some  days  covering  all  the  ground  they  had 
traveled.  They  gave  to  the  Indians  the  Prus- 
sian war-tactics  of  le  lien  responsable,  where  the 


34  KIT    CARSON. 

whole  neighborhood  has  to  bear  the  responsi- 
bility of  individual  acts.  They  burned  their  vil- 
lages, their  nets,  and  scaffolds  for  drying  fish,  and 
their  boats ;  and  killed  twenty-one  of  the  Indians. 
"  We  gave  them  something  to  remember,"  said 
Carson ;  "  the  women  and  children  we  did  not 
interfere  with."  ("  Interfere  "  had  a  narrower 
meaning  to  Carson  than  to  us.) 

One  Indian  in  his  ignorance  of  fire-arms 
thought  he  had  escaped  in  a  boat,  but  the  rifle 
ball  sent  after  him  surprised  him  as  he  was 
shouting  and  gesticulating,  and  he  remained  in 
that  attitude  of  defiance,  upright  but  dead,  in 
the  stern  of  his  canoe.  The  current  drove  this 
against  the  bank  and  they  saw  his  hand  still 
grasping  the  paddle  and  on  his  feet  the  shoes 
worn  by  Basil  when  he  was  killed.  By  this  time 
the  Indians  were  gathering  in  great  force,  though 
the  rifles  were  too  much  for  them  in  open  ground 
—  an  Indian  will  not  fight  at  a  disadvantage  and 
he  hates  to  be  killed  —  but  later  they  were  re- 
ported advancing  through  the  timber. 


KIT    CARSON.  35 

"  Taking  with  me  Carson  and  some  of  the  Delawares 
I  rode  out  to  see  what  they  were  intending.  '  Sacra- 
mento '  knew  how  to  jump  and  liked  it.  Going  through 
the  wood  at  a  hand-gallop  we  came  upon  an  oak-tree 
which  had  been  blown  down  ;  its  summit  covered  quite 
a  space,  and  being  crowded  by  the  others  I  was  brought 
squarely  in  front  of  it.  I  let  '  Sacramento  '  go,  and  he 
cleared  the  whole  green  mass  in  a  beautiful  leap.  Look- 
ing back  Carson  called  out,  'Captain,  that  horse  will 
break  your  neck  some  day,'  but  it  never  happened  to 
'  Sacramento  '  to  hurt  his  rider. 

"  In  the  heart  of  the  wood  we  came  suddenly  upon  an 
Indian  scout.  He  was  drawing  his  arrow  to  the  head,  as 
we  came  upon  him !  I  fired  and  in  my  haste  to  save  Car- 
son failed  to  kill  the  Indian,  but '  Sacramento '  was  not 
afraid  of  anything,  so  I  jumped  him  directly  upon  the 
Indian  and  threw  him  to  the  ground.  His  arrow  went 
wild.  Sagunda  was  right  behind  me,  and  as  I  passed 
over  the  Indian  my  Delaware  threw  himself  from  his 
horse  and  killed  him  with  a  blow  from  his  war-club. 

"  All  was  the  work  of  a  moment,  but  it  was  a  narrow 
chance  for  Carson." 

I  wish  there  was  space  to  tell  you  fully  of  the 
generous  and  most  daring  effort  made  by  Carson 
•and  Godey  to  rescue  two  Mexican  women  who 
had  been  carried  off  captive  by  the  Apache  after 
these  savages  had  cut  to  pieces  the  men  of  their 


36  KIT   CARSON. 

party.  One  man  and  a  boy  only  were  saved  by 
being  off  and  on  horseback  guarding  their  band 
of  horses.  They  fled,  and  in  about  sixty  miles 
came  upon  our  party.  Carson  and  Godey,  famil- 
iar with  such  atrocities,  knew  the  horrible  fate 
to  which  these  unhappy  women  were  doomed  and 
volunteered  to  rescue  them.  Well  mounted,  they 
and  Fuentes,  the  husband  of  one  of  the  women, 
started  on  this  forlorn  hope.  The  Mexican, 
already  exhausted,  gave  out  and  returned  by 
nightfall,  but  Carson  and  Godey  kept  on.  They 
followed  the  Indian  trail  all  day  and  as  long  as 
the  moon  lasted.  It  had  led  into  a  narrow 
mountain  defile  where  they  had  to  wait  for 
morning  light.  Holding  to  their  horses  raitas 
they  slept  (!)  a  little  until  day  dawn  again  let 
them  follow  the  trail  and  soon  after  sunrise  they 
came  on  a  large  camp.  Hiding  their  horses 
and  keeping  themselves  well  hid  they  crept  up 
close  to  this  robbers'  nest  and  looked  down 
on  them  in  their  fancied  security.  There  were 
lodges  around  the  good  spring  and  baskets  of 


KIT   CARSON.  37 

moccasins  and  every  look  of  a  large  and  secure 
robber  rendezvous.  Horses  had  been  skinned 
and  cut  up  aiad  were  boiling  in  large  earthen 
pots  over  big  fires  —  it  was  to  be  a  big  feast 
and  there  was  a  gay  time  already.  They  saw 
the  two  captive  women  when  the  Mexican  horses 
gave  the  alarm,  and  instantly  the  whole  camp 
made  off  ;  leaving  everything  —  horses  and  all 
except  the  two  poor  women. 

As  these  had  been  in  a  small  party  in  advance 
of  the  great  caravan,  doubtless  the  Apaches 
thought  the  force  of  the  caravan  had  pursued 
them.  Carson  and  Godey  killed  two  and  hoped 
more  shots  told  on  others,  but  seeing  the  women 
were  lost  they  hurried  off  the  band  of  horses  and 
returned  after  their  hundred-mile  ride  of  two 
days  with  eighteen  horses;  and,  to  Godey's  gun 
were  hanging  two  Indian  scalps  as  vouchers. 

Carson's  gentler  nature  was  soon  to  enter  into 
higher  and  more  congenial  pursuits.  After  our 
flag  had  been  planted  on  that  furthest  shore  and 
Mexico  and  her  "  next  friend,"  England,  discom- 


38  KIT   CARSON. 

fited,  it  was  needed  to  inform  the  government 
at  Washington  and  arrange  for  the  changed 
conditions.  The  continent  lay  between  Los 
Angeles  and  the  Capitol.  To-day  this  would 
be  done  in  five  days  of  railway  ride  in  luxury 
of  comfort,  or  by  some  telegrams  taking  only 
hours  instead  of  days.  Then  it  had  to  be  an 
overland  ride  running  the  gauntlet  of  dangerous 
Indians  from  California  to  the  Missouri  frontier. 
Panama  was  the  nearest  crossing  by  sea,  for 
Mexico  was  enemy's  ground,  and  we  had  only 
sailing  vessels.  In  old  days  the  bearer  of  dis- 
patches had  a  most  honorable  but  perilous 
duty  — to  "ride,  run  and  deliver  with  all  haste" 
involved  the  courage,  the  endurance,  the  fidelity 
of  highest  romance. 

Carson  was  the  one  man  all  thought  of  for 
this  ride  "cross  country."  His  captain  hesi- 
tated over  risking  this  valued  friend,  but  Carson 
said  "Let  me  go.  I  will  do  it  —  not  I  can,  but 
I  will."  And  he  did. 

Meeting  my  father  in  Saint  Louis,  he  was  by 


KIT    CARSON.  39 

him  sent  to  us  at  our  Washington  home,  and 
there  commenced  the  personal  knowledge,  con- 
tinued at  intervals,  which  made  me  know  the 
high  and  fine  nature  of  Carson  and  added  me 
to  the  number  of  his  fast  friends. 

He  was  with  us  at  that  time  some  weeks. 
Long  and  most  unnecessary  delays  at  the  State 
Department  followed  his  wonderful  ride  and 
wasted  its  value.  He  was  sorely  tried,  for  his 
native  good  sense  made  him  feel  this  delay 
involved  a  hidden  and  wrong  meaning,  as  it 
proved. 

"  It  is  not  fair  to  the  captain,"  he  would  say ; 
"he  trusted  me  to  come  back  as  quick  as  I  had 
come  on.  Now,  he  is  looking  out  for  me  and 
they  won't  give  me  the  answer  to  carry  back." 

We  had  all  become  attached  to  him  and  tried 
our  best  to  lighten  the  delay  and  that  sense  of 
slyly-frustrated  purpose,  so  much  harder  to  bear 
than  open  opposition.  After  each  fruitless  visit 
to  the  Department  where  his  anxious  sincerity 
was  met  by  polite  insincerity  and  a  renewed 


4°  KIT   CARSON. 

"to-morrow,"  he  would  come  back  to  us  all 
troubled  by  the  new  ideas  conflicting  with  his 
old  reverence  for  the  rulers  of  the  country. 

"He  is  such  a  fair-looking  gentleman — who 
would  think  he  is  not  to  be  trusted  ! "  (Carson's 
vocabulary  was  not  large,  so  he  could  not  shade 
his  meaning.)  "  With  their  big  houses  and  easy 
living  they  think  they  are  princes,  but  on  the 
plains  we  are  the  princes  —  they  could  not  live 
there  without  us." 

How  he  did  appreciate  Burns'  verse : 

"  The  King  may  make  a  better  Knight, 
A  Duke,  an  Earl,  and  all  that, 
But  an  honest  man's  above  his  might 
For  a'  that  and  a'  that." 

One  of  these  troubled  days  he  brought  up 
to  the  library  an  illustrated  Byron  which  had 
attracted  him  among  the  books  in  the  parlor 
below.  The  picture  of  Mazeppa  bound  to  the 
horse,  the  frightened  horse  running  madly  over 
a  solitary  plain  with  only  the  stars  for  light, 


KIT   CARSON.  41 

fascinated  him.  It  made  him  too  full  of  excite- 
ment to  read  it  patiently.  "  Read  it  out  to  me 
—  you  will  read  it  quicker  than  I  can  !  It  looks 
like  Indian-work  —  they're  devils  enough  for  just 
such  work  as  that  "  —  and  then  and  often  again 
I  read  it  to  him;  there  in  my  father's  large  library, 
among  his  father's  and  his  own  serious  collec- 
tions, I  rendered  Byron  with  all  the  dramatic 
effect  I  could  manage. 

Carson  kindled  to  fury  over  the  wild-horse 
episode.  His  excitement  culminated  where 
Mazeppa  says : 

"  There  never  yet  was  human  power 
That  could  evade  —  if  unforgiven  — 
The  patient  hate,  and  vigil  long 
Of  him  who  treasures  up  a  wrong." 

"  That's  so,  that's  so  !  He  knows  how  a  man 
feels  !  That's  the  way  I  felt.  Until  I  paid  them 
back,  after  the  Blackfeet  destroyed  my  caches 
and  carried  off  all  my  furs  and  skins.  But  I 
came  back.  I  thanked  them  for  their  conduct. 


42  KIT   CARSON. 

I  had  to  wait.  I  had  to  wait  for  the  right  men 
to  help  punish  the  thieves.  Then  my  time  came, 
and  we  left  mourning  in  their  tribe." 

Carson  had  now  an  interval  of  peace  and 
home  life.  With  his  brother-in-law  Maxwell  * 
he  lived  on  a  great  domain  where  he  herded  his 
sheep  and  cattle  and  only  hunted  for  pleasure. 
The  two  families  lived  in  patriarchal  largeness 
of  ease  and  hospitality  with  their  families  grow- 
ing up  about  them. 

But  there  came  a  time  when  the  life  of  the 
nation  depended  on  men  who  could  be  trusted. 
Then  Carson's  hour  came,  and  his  dearest  wish 
was  fulfilled ;  he  wore  the  uniform  of  his  country 
and  did  her  good  service  in  her  time  of  utmost 
danger.  His  name  gathered  not  only  the  loyal 
men  of  New  Mexico,  men  he  knew  could  be 
trusted,  but  kept  in  check  all  attempts  to  enlist 
its  Indians  against  us  as  had  been  done  all 
along  the  border.  Colonel  Carson  was  the  same 
Kit  Carson  they  had  learned  to  fear  of  old,  only 

*  Original  owner  of  the  famous  Maxwell  grant  near  Taos,  N.  M. 


KIT   CARSON.  43 

now  more  formidable  because  he  was  backed  by 
Government  authority  and  resources.  And 
after  good  services  when  peace  was  restored 
he  was  made  superintendent  of  his  neighboring 
Indians  to  maintain  peace  and  order. 

On  some  duty  connected  with  this  he  had 
come  to  Washington  bringing  with  him  several 
chiefs  of  different  tribes.  This  was  in  the  sum- 
mer of  '67  ("vingt  ans  apres").  Mr.  Fre'mont 
wrote  me  from  Washington  that  Carson  was 
there  on  Indian  business,  but  looking  so  ill  and 
suffering  he  had  made  him  promise  to  see  some 
good  physician  in  New  York,  and  thaf  he  had 
tried  to  make  him  promise  also  to  go  to  me  and 
let  me  take  care  of  him  at  our  country  home  on 
the  Hudson. 

Carson  traced  his  illness  to  an  accident  where 
a  refractory  young  mule  had  contrived  to  so 
wind  his  lariat  about  himself  and  Carson  too 
that  as  the  mule  fell  over  a  steep  hill-side  Carson 
was  dragged  over — the  rope  tightening  about 
his  body  and  the  left  side  getting  badly  hurt 


44  KIT   CARSON, 

and  jammed  among  rocks.  "  I  think  Carson  is 
very  ill.  If  you  can,  persuade  him  to  stay  and 
I  will  come  back  immediately.  He  is  greatly 
altered  by  suffering/' 

I  went  at  once  to  town,  sending  my  youngest 
boy  to  the  Metropolitan  Hotel  where  Carson 
was  to  go,  to  let  nim  know  I  would  be  there  to 
see  him  immediately.  Meantime  I  waited  at 
the  house  of  a  friend  on  Madison  Square.  The 
family  were  out  of  town,  but  I  was  always  at 
home  in  that  house  and  now  waited  in  the  cool 
library  looking  on  the  square ;  a  room  full  of 
pictures,  bronzes,  books  in  low  cases  around 
the  walls — every  device  of  luxurious  easy  chair 
and  reading  lamp,  all  beautiful,  but  of  to-day  — 
with  nothing  of  the  delightful  old-world  growth, 
the  still  and  scholarly  seclusion— the  atmosphere 
of  peace  and  retreat  from  the  world  that  gave 
such  charm  to  my  father's  library ;  the  library 
where  Carson  in  his  young  days  had  kindled, 
responsive,  to  the  tale  of  cruelty  endured,  remem- 
bered and  revenged. 


KIT   CARSON.  45 

I  was  thinking  how  strange  it  was  that  my 
first,  and  this  —  the  last — meeting  with  this  un- 
lettered but  true  knight  and  gentleman,  should 
be  framed  in  by  libraries,  when  the  door  opened 
and  my  poor  Carson  came  in ;  holding  the  hand 
of  my  boy  and  resting  on  his  sturdy  young 
shoulder. 

He  ought  not  to  have  come  out,  but  it  would 
not  have  been  Carson  had  he  let  me  go  to  him. 
"No,  you  couldn't  do  that  —  I'm  alive  yet." 
But  he  was  exhausted  and  had  to  rest  before 
he  could  talk. 

Sitting  between  the  wife  and  the  child  of  his 
old  friend,  holding  a  hand  of  each,  his  looks 
and  faint  smile  of  content  showed  he  felt  glad 
to  be  with  us,  and  was,  like  that  knight  of  King 
Arthur's  time, 

"  Revolving  many  memories  in  his  mind." 

But  he  knew  it  was  the  last  greeting. 
It  had  greatly  pleased  him  to  find  the  father's 
face  repeated  in  the  son.     The  youngster  had 


46  KIT   CARSON. 

gone  up  himself  to  Carson's  room  to  find  him  — 
the  children  of  this  generation  are  wise  enough 
to  do  for  themselves  what  they  want  well  done 
—  and  in  answer  to  his  knock  and  the  "  Come 
in "  he  entered  to  several  Indians  and  found 
Carson  lying  down. 

Before  he  could  speak  Carson  exclaimed  "  My 
boy,  I  know  you !  You  are  a  Fremont,"  and  so 
introduced  him  to  the  chiefs. 

These  chiefs  wished  to  visit  New  York  and 
Boston.  Bringing  his  Indians  through  on  the 
night  train  he  had  gone  at  once  to  Dr.  Sayre, 
telling  him  how  he  had  been  hurt  and  that  he  felt 
the  heart  was  injured  ;  but  that  he  wanted  to  get 
home  to  Taos  in  New  Mexico,  return  his  Indians 
to  their  people,  and  die  among  his  own  people. 
If  Dr.  Sayre  could  help  him  do  this  he  expected 
no  more,  for  he  felt  he  was  near  death. 

Dr.  Sayre  had  to  tell  him  he  was  right ;  that 
he  might  die  at  any  moment.  The  mountain 
fall  and  the  dragging  of  the  frightened  mule 
had  caused  a  fatal  injury  to  the  heart.  Nothing 


KIT    CARSON.  47 

could  now  be  done  to  prevent  sudden  death. 
It  might  be  delayed  by  extreme  care  in  avoid- 
ing fatigue,  excitement,  any  hurried  or  disturbed 
action  of  the  heart.  With  a  gentle  smile  of 
amusement  Carson  added  "And  the  doctor  said 
I  must  not  do  any  drinking."  (You  see  the 
Eastern  idea  of  reckless,  drinking,  "  hurrah- 
boys,"  was  even  this  great  physician's,  idea  of 
the  Western  frontiersman.) 

"  I  must  take  the  chiefs  to  see  Boston.  They 
depend  on  me.  I  told  them  I  would.  Then  we 
go  home,  straight.  My  wife  must  see  me.  If 
I  was  to  write  about  this,  or  died  out  here,  it 
would  kill  her.  I  must  get  home,  and  I  think  I 
can  do  it." 

His  will  was  concentrated  on  the  orders  to 
avoid  excitement.  He  told  me  all  this  simply, 
checking  the  signs  of  distress  I  could  not  entirely 
keep  back  with  a  kindly  "Now  don't  —  you  must 
help  me  to  get  home." 

But  even  his  magnificent  courage  must  have 
bent  to  the  death  sentence.  For  Ls  told  me 


KIT   CARSON. 


that  after  seeing  Dr.  Sayre  and  returning  to  the 
hotel  he  "  felt  tired,"  and  lay  clown  on  the  bed. 
"  Suddenly  the  bed  seemed  to  rise  with  me  _ 
I  felt  my  head  swell  and  my  breath  leaving  me. 
Then,  I  woke  up  at  the  window.  It  was  open 
and  my  face  and  head  all  wet.  I  was  on  the 
floor  and  the  chief  was  holding  my  head  on  his 
arm  and  putting  water  on  me.  He  was  crying. 
He  said  '  I  thought  you  were  dead.  You  called 
your  Lord  Jesus,  then  you  shut  your  eyes  and 
couldn't  speak.' 

"I  did  not  know  that  I  spoke,"  said  our  dear 
Carson.  "I  do  not  know  that  I  called  on  the 
Lord  Jesus,  but  I  might-  it's  only  Him  that 
can  help  me  where  I  stand  now." 

"And  so  he  went  on  his  way  and  I  saw  him 
no  more." 

Carson  did  reach  his  home.  His  wife  being 
of  the  very  simple  affectionate  Spanish  nature 
did  feel  his  condition  as  he  feared.  She  died, 
leaving  a  very  young  baby. 


KIT    CARSON.  49 

Then  Carson's  friends  at  the  fort  near  by 
claimed  him ;  and  there  under  the  best  surgical 
skill,  and  with  manly  sympathy  and  tenderness 
from  men  who  had  personally  learned  what  the 
life  of  the  plains  and  the  mountains  meant,  and 
what  high  qualities  it  could  develop,  and  what 
a  mighty  chief  among  the  best  was  Carson,  his 
last  hour  came. 

Reviving  from  one  of  the  closing  attacks 
of  suffocation  his  unfailing  thought  for  others 
showed  itself.  "  Gentlemen,"  he  gasped,  "  I'm 
sorry  I'm  giving  you  trouble  longer  than  I 
expected." 

His  name  is  part  of  the  geography  and  of 
the  military  record  of  his  country.  "Carson's 
Peak"  looms  up,  snow-capped,  beyond  the  Yose- 
mite  ;  and  the  busy  railroad  town  of  "  Carson 
City  "  marks  one  of  the  old  striving  and  strug- 
gling camps  in  the  Sierras ;  and  a  central  G.  A.  R. 
post,  the  "  Kit  Carson  Post "  at  the  National 
capitol,  bears  the  name  of  the  frontier  lad  who 
made  his  way  onward  and  always  upward  into 


50  KIT   CARSON. 

the  affection  as  well  as  the  esteem  of  all  who 
knew  him ;  and  whose  name  shall  be  writ  in 
story  for  many  a  long  year  to  come. 

Among  the  bits  of  poetical  expression  his  mind 
fastened  to  in  that  dear  remembered  library  — 
in  the  far-back  time  when  we  were  all  young 
together  and  felt  our  lives  strong  and  "compel- 
ling," was  this  which  so  well  fits  to  himself : 

"  fleet  foot  in  the  forest, 
Sage  head  in  the  cumber 
—  Red  hand  in  the  foray  1 
How  sound  is  thy  slumber.'* 


III. 

A   PICNIC   NEAR   THE  EQUATOR. 

PANAMA  in  1849  was  ^or  the  time  overrun 
by  Americans.  They  came  in  great 
crowds  from  the  Atlantic  side  while  there  was 
no  transportation  to  carry  them  away  from  this 
ancient  Spanish  city  on  the  Pacific.  The  first 
steamer  to  San  Francisco  could  not  return  be- 
cause crew,  firemen,  engineers  and  all  deserted 
her.  And  who  could  expect  men  to  re-ship  and 
take  common  wages  for  hard  work  when  gold 
was  to  be  had  just  for  the  picking  up  ? 

So  there  the  incoming  Americans  continued 
to  bank-up  for  many  months  until  some  order 
of  travel  was  gained.  The  crowd  suffered  from 
every  discomfort.  Many  were  ill  —  and  many 
died  —  from  the  climate  and  the  unwholesome 


52  A    PICNIC    NEAR   THE    EQUATOR. 

living,  and  the  depressing  feeling  that  they  were 
like  shipwrecked  people  who  watched  in  vain 
for  a  sail. 

The  few  who  were  better  prepared  for  the 
delay  contrived  to  lighten  the  heavy  time. 
Among  these  was  our  Government  Commission 
for  running  the  boundary  line  between  Mexico 
and  California  (delays  seemed  natural  in  gov- 
ernment work).  I  knew  most  of  these  ;  the 
Commissioner  himself,  who  had  married  a  near 
relative  of  mine,  thought  I  should  have  change 
of  ideas  from  the  long  waiting  to  get  to  Califor- 
nia, where  I  was  to  meet  Mr.  Fremont,  and  he 
knew  what  a  hard  trial  this  first  separation  from 
home  was  to  me. 

To  please  him  in  this  kindly-meant  effort  I 
consented  to  go  on  a  picnic  he  had  planned, 
though  it  did  not  smile  on  me  to  face  an  outing 
in  such  dazing  light  and  heat. 

We  were  to  make  a  very  early  start  and  sail 
across  the  bay  to  the  Island  of  Taboga,  twelve 
miles  from  the  City  of  Panama ;  have  our  late 


A   PICNIC   NEAR   THE    EQUATOR.  53 

breakfast  on  the  beach  ;  visit  a  pleasant  Ameri- 
can family  of  his  friends  who  had  taken  refuge 
there  from  the  over-crowded  town,  then  return 
in  the  cooler  hour  about  sunset.  And  as  there 
was  a  full  moon  it  would  be  all  right  even  if 
we  were  a  little  late. 

This  was  a  fine  plan.  Only,  it  omitted  two 
facts  of  nature  which  govern  water  parties  — 
wind  and  tide.  The  gentlemen  were  inland 
Western  men,  and  I  was  in  my  first  knowledge 
of  the  sea. 

The  submissive-looking  polite  natives  who 
manned  the  boat  did  not  enlighten  the  Amer- 
icans who  thought  they  had  only  to  order  and 
get  what  they  ordered.  The  Indians  knew 
their  own  interests  too  well  to  enlighten  the 
"  foreigners." 

Dickens  tells  of  his  hurrying  to  a  station,  and 
calling  to  the  slow  cabman  to  drive  faster, 
"  drive  for  your  life,"  when  cabby  answered  he 
was  driving  for  his  life,  "  anyway  for  my  living, 
and  if  I  go  faster  you  cut  off  my  time." 


54  A    PICNIC    NEAR    THE    EQUATOR. 

The  Patron  made  sure  of  his  party,  and  as 
the  wind  was  fair  we  had  a  delightful  quick  sail 
in  the  early  morning  freshness  and  were  at  our 
picnic  place  within  two  hours.  Taboga  rises 
like  a  high  green  pyramid  from  the  blue  sea,  a 
small  conical  island ;  feathery  with  cocoanut- 
trees  and  tall  palms  near  the  water,  then  comes 
the  pine-apple  growth,  and  everywhere  inter- 
spersed are  the  lovely  feather-like  yellow  bloom 
of  the  mimosa  and  other  flowering  trees  of 
violet,  pink  and  yellow  blooms. 

We  landed  on  a  little  smooth  and  hard  beach, 
surrounded  by  tall  pink-blossomed  oleanders ; 
the  palms  and  cocoanuts  threw  some  shade  on 
the  pale  sands,  and  here  rugs  were  spread  and  the 
baskets  unpacked  and  we  breakfasted  by  the 
rippling  water's  edge.  In  the  beauty  and  fresh- 
ness of  the  place  we  all  found  it  had  been  an 
excellent  idea  to  come. 

After  a  little  we  walked  the  short  distance  — 
through  the  Indian  village,  with  its  small  church, 
bright  from  the  mother-of-pearl  shells  encrusted 


A    PICNIC    NEAR   THE    EQUATOR.  55 

over  its  outer  walls  and  roof  —  to  where  we  met 
the  really  nice  family  we  were  to  visit  —  in  an 
ugly  but  clean  new  frame  house  as  yet  free  from 
big  Spiders  and  the  many  insects  of  the  tropics. 
Travelers  like  ourselves,  they  were  very  glad 
to  see  "  white  people  "  and  talk  of  the  possible 
chances  of  getting  away,  with  men  well-informed 
as  to  all  possibilities  ;  on  any  regulated  travel 
we  could  not  count  —  everything  was  upheaved 
and  thrown  into  chaos  by  this  craze  of  gold. 

There  were  some  children  as  well  as  several 
ladies  in  that  family,  and  to  them  we  sent  over 
the  abundant  remains  of  our  feast  —  there  had 
been  an  absurdly  large  supply  of  fresh  and 
tinned  things  and  wines.  They  had  been  living 
on  scant  and  unpalatable  rations,  for  the  Amer- 
icans had  descended  like  a  plague  of  locusts  and 
cleaned  off  all  Panama  supplies  —  our  tins  of 
i  biscuit  and  cake  and  sweetmeats  were  as  wel- 
comed as  the  meats.  We  were  glad  to  please 
them,  and  we  were  to  be  back  in  town  in  easy 
time  for  dinner. 


56  A    PICNIC    NEAR   THE    EQUATOR. 

Then,  with  many  kind  good-bys  we  went  back 
to  make  our  start. 

The  men  were  lying  about  quietly  smoking 
and  no  sign  of  readiness. 

Not  one  of  the  men  of  our  party  knew  Span- 
ish. The  Patron  spoke  his  native  dialect  — 
Spanish  —  which  is  so  mixed  with  Indian,  and 
so  confusing  from  their  never  pronouncing  the 
1's  or  s's  that  it  is  hardly  comprehensible  even 
to  one  knowing  Spanish.  And  his  small  stock 
of  English  was  accented  in  a  most  bewildering 
way.  Some  instinct  had  made  me  not  tell  that 
I  knew  Spanish,  and  for  this  I  was  glad  enough 
afterwards. 

I  did  not  like  the  manner  of  these  men,  the 
head  man  or  any.  There  had  been  a  complete 
and  sudden  dropping  of  the  grave,  ceremonious 
politeness  and  deference  of  the  starting  ;  chang- 
ing to  a  rather  noisy  chatter  and  to  a  general 
air  of  chuckling  amusement  which  they  knew 
perfectly  well  was  not  suitable  when  with 
employers  and  superiors  —  a  manner  they 


A    PICNIC    NEAR    THE    EQUATOR.  57 

would  not  have  ventured  on  with  Panama  gen- 
tlemen. 

Now,  the  Patron  told  the  Commissioner,  in 
answer  to  his  surprised  questioning,  it  was  no 
use  to  go  back  until  after  the  moon  rose ;  then, 
the  wind  would  rise,  and  the  tide  would  help  the 
boat  in.  Or  —  seeing  this  was  very  unwelcome 
—  there  would  be  a  right  wind  early  in  the 
morning,  at  sunrise. 

Remember  that  so  near  the  equator  there  is 
no  interval  —  it  is  day,  or  it  is  night,  no  twilight 
at  all. 

The  gentlemen  felt  something  wrong  in  the 
man's  manner,  and  at  once  decided  that  there 
must  be  no  night  excursion ;  that  I  must  stay 
with  the  ladies  we  had  just  left,  and  they  would 
return  and  camp  on  the  beach.  Which  they 
did.  Angry  enough  at  not  having  been  warned 
of  the  hours  of  wind  and  tide,  but  quite  help- 
less. There  was  no  other  possible  way  to  get 
back.  It  was  obligatory  to  make  the  best  of  a 
bad  situation,  and  equally  necessary  not  to  be- 


58  A   PICNIC    NEAR   THE    EQUATOR. 

tray  to  the  Patron  their  want  of  confidence  in 
him.  They  were  not  used  to  managing  boats 
but  they  were  used  to  managing  men. 

The  pleasant  women  were  both  glad  and 
sorry  to  have  me  back,  but  the  glad  predomina- 
ted, and  they  were  very  hospitable  and  walked 
back  with  me  before  sunrise  to  the  boat  —  which 
this  time  was  ready.  A  long,  shallow  nonde- 
script combination  of  canoe  and  European 
boat ;  with  its  Captain,  the  Patron,  and  crew 
six  in  all ;  myself  and  my  little  girl  with  the 
four  gentlemen  making  the  boat  full. 

We  started  with  a  good  light  wind.  The  sun- 
rise ripple  and  dancing  glitter  were  on  the  waves, 
it  was  as  cool  as  it  can  be  at  only  eight  degrees 
from  the  equator,  and  though  we  were  rather 
hungry  yet  we  were  so  pleased  to  be  skimming 
along  homeward  that  the  annoyances  of  the  past 
day  dropped  away. 

;  After  a  little  however,  one  of  the  gentlemen 
asked  the  Patron  why  he  did  not  bear  down  to- 
ward Panama — we  were  running  north  of  it. 


A    PICNIC    NEAR    THE    EQUATOR.  59 

Supplemented  by  gestures  he  made  himself 
understood.  The  crew  understood  also.  And 
it  was  not  good  to  see  the  almost  insolent  look 
of  amusement  on  their  faces.  They  were  mas- 
ters of  the  situation,  and  had  their  plan, 
evidently. 

The  Patron  was  civil  enough,  and  made  a 
plausible  answer  which  could  not  be  contradicted 
though  it  was  not  believed  —  something  about 
the  currents  and  tacking  —  but  all  the  same  the 
fair  wind  was  being  wasted,  and  the  good 
breeze,  which  should  have  taken  us  back  as  we 
came,  in  about  two  hours  began  to  drop.  Then 
failed  us  completely. 

It  was  clear  now  they  intended  to  keep  us  out 
as  long  as  possible  ;  probably  to  get  pay  for  two 
days  in  place  of  one. 

In  wrong-doing  and  crime  it  is  remarkable 
how  often  the  first  motive  is  so  small  and  fool- 
ishly short-sighted,  and  how  surely  unforeseen 
events  get  away  with  the  original  plan  and  lead 
to  worse  than  was  intended.  Once  you  begin 


6o  A    PICNIC    NEAR    THE    EQUATOR. 

to  disorder  the  straight  lines  of  right  there  is 
no  seeing  where  the  tangle  may  end. 

We  all  comprehended  that  the  men  intended 
something  wrong.  To  let  them  know  we  saw 
through  them  would  be  to  put  ourselves  in 
a  humiliating  position — we  must  appear  to 
hold  our  position  of  authority.  We  could  not 
confer  on  this  but  had  to  act  on  instinct,  for  the 
Patron  knew  enough  English  to  follow  the  mean- 
ing of  our  talk.  And  it  was  every  way  best  to 
assume  he  was  telling  the  truth  when  he  affected 
regret  and  talked  again  of  the  current  setting 
in-shore  and  that  he  must  work  down  along  the 
shore. 

He  now  made  a  great  display  of  activity, 
taking  down  the  drooping  sails  and  putting  the 
crew  to  their  long  oars.  They  made  much 
racket  but  not  much  progress,  and  it  was  all 
directed  to  the  shore. 

It  did  not  do  for  us  to  be  too  silent.  I  sug- 
gested this  —  in  a  roundabout  way  which  meant 
nothing  to  an  ignorant  mind —  saying  something 


A   PICNIC   NEAR   THE    EQUATOR.  6 1 

about  not  "  wearing  our  hearts  upon  our  sleeves," 
which  suggested  my  proposing  we  should  talk 
in  appropriate  quotations.  The  Commissioner 
was  a  devoted  Shakespearean,  and  maintained 
that  the  Bible  and  Shakespeare  made  a  complete 
library,  and  the  Surveyor  was  quick-witted 
enough  for  any  such  game. 

It  was  surprising  how  this  exercise  of  memory 
carried  off  the  heavy  time  ;  our  intent  thinking, 
then  the  sudden  dramatic  speech,  with  as  sud- 
den laughs  of  applause,  quite  misled  the  crew ; 
seeing  us  apparently  gay  and  careless  they  might 
well  think  we  were  without  anger  or  fear. 

But  we  were  awfully  anxious.  And  the  fierce 
sun  was  sharp  on  our  heads.  When  the  gentle- 
men made  an  awning  over  me  of  one  of  the 
sails,  the  men  began  by  looking  angry,  then 
demanded  it  should  be  taken  down.  They  said 
it  made  it  too  hard  for  them  to  row  against 
when  there  was  no  breeze  at  all  —  a  dead  calm ; 
but  it  had  to  come  down.  I  could  only  wet  our 
handkerchiefs  over  the  side  and  put  them  un- 


62  A    PICNIC    NEAR   THE    EQUATOR. 

der  our  straw  hats,  where  they  dried  so  quickly 
as  to  keep  me  repeating  this  often. 

And  now  we  were  both  thirsty  and  hungry, 
with  absolutely  nothing  to  eat  or  drink.  The 
crew  had  their  rice  and  bananas  but  they  did  not 
offer  even  a  banana  to  the  child  though  we  had 
given  them  a  feast  the  day  before.  The  little 
creature  would  not  let  us  ask  anything  for  her. 
"  I  can  go  to  sleep,"  she  would  answer.  "  I  will 
not  touch  their  things  "  —  but  the  little  face 
grew  pitifully  strained  and  flushed. 

A  favorite  quotation  —  with  the  Commissioner 
—  always  had  been  the  "  thrice  is  he  armed  that 
hath  his  quarrel  just"  —  he  now  repeated  it 
with  a  melancholy  shake  of  the  head,  and,  "  I'd 
give  my  kingdom  not  for  a  horse  but  for  a  colt ;  " 
which  roused  a  laugh  and  an  echo  from  the 
others,  "  oh  !  for  our  '  Colts '  "  —  for  there  was 
not  a  pistol  among  them.  It  was  fortunate 
there  could  be  no  such  display  of  resentment. 
The  patient  cunning  of  these  people  was  best 
met  in  their  own  way. 


A   PICNIC   NEAR   THE    EQUATOR.  63 

They  rowed  very  fitfully  and  in  a  slack  noisy 
way,  never  really  getting  down  to  their  work. 
I  could  make  out  they  were  expecting  to  be 
bribed  into  activity  and  they  calculated  —  on  a 
rising  scale  —  what  they  should  ask.  They 
counted  on  the  heat,  on  our  hunger  and  thirst, 
to  get  at  more  and  more  of  that  stream  of  coin 
the  Americans  were  pouring  among  them  ;  they 
commented  on  the  fine  gold  watches  my  help- 
less countrymen  consulted  so  often,  and  they 
made  sure  the  Senora  would  soon  be  very  ill, 
muy  enferma. 

They  made  long  rests  from  rowing;  when 
like  the  Ancient  Mariner  we  were  idle  as  a 
painted  boat  upon  a  painted  ocean.  So  idle 
that  the  big-pouched  foolish-looking  pelican 
quietly  rocked  on  the  glassy  water  alongside  and 
filled  its  ungainly  pouch  with  little  fish  —  then 
down  would  swoop  the  "  man-of-war "  hawk 
poised  overhead,  and  carry  off  the  fish  as  the 
pelican  was  gulping  it  into  its  market-bag  of  a 
pouch.  The  child  was  greatly  interested  by 


64  A    PICNIC    NEAR    THE    EQUATOR. 

this,  though  filled  with  pity  for  the  little  fishes 
torn  between  the  birds.  And  many  porpoises 
rolled  close  to  us,  attracted  by  the  boat. 

We  had,  between  drifting  and  rowing,  neared 
a  flat,  sandy  shore  with  trees  beyond.  The 
crew  intended  we  should  land  so  we  "  preferred" 
to  land  —  exaggerating  the  relief  it  was  to 
stretch  ourselves  after  long  hours  of  sitting 
cramped  on  the  narrow  seats. 

The  men  made  a  little  fire,  cooked  their  rice, 
and  were  comfortable.  Insects  in  millions 
drove  us  back  from  the  trees  to  the  glaring  bare 
sands,  but  we  had  our  umbrellas  and  wet  hand- 
kerchiefs, and  here  we  could  speak  freely. 

We  talked  of  the  situation.  The  breeze 
would  only  rise  again  with  the  moon.  That  was 
fixed.  What  was  also  fixed  as  fate  was  the  rise 
of  the  tide  which  would  turn  soon  after  moon- 
rise,  and  there  lay  a  terrible  danger  which  we 
all  clearly  knew. 

Panama  bay  has  a  long  series  of  cruel  reefs 
extending  out  for  three  miles  ;  nothing  anchors 


A    PICNIC    NEAR    THE    EQUATOR.  65 

within  that  three-mile  limit,  for  the  tide  rises 
twenty-six  feet.  The  tremendous  ramparts 
built  by  the  early  Spaniards  to  resist  this  mighty 
tide  are  forty  feet  from  base  to  top ;  where  a 
smooth  wide  terrace  crowns  the  ramparts  as 
they  follow  the  indentations  of  the  shore. 
It  is  built  in  the  old  Spanish  way  of  defensive 
works,  strongly  buttressed,  and  with  frequent 
large  embrasures  in  the  immensely  thick  wall, 
where  long  old  guns  were  still  to  be  seen  ;  some, 
dropped  from  their  decayed  mounting,  made 
seats  for  those  watching  from  this  terrace  the 
great  sight  to  us  Americans  of  such  a  tide. 
This  esplanade  surrounds  the  town  on  its  water- 
face,  and  is  the  one  promenade  and  breathing- 
spot  in  the  old,  closely-built  and  tropically 
unclean  town  of  Panama,  where  the  chain-gang 
and  vulture-crows  were  the  only  sanitary  agents. 
Just  before  sunset  one  met  there  all  the 
better  sort  of  residents  and  foreigners,  and 
there  crowded  the  Americans  who  always  hoped 
to  see  the  ship  that  would  take  them  off. 


66  A   PICNIC   NEAR   THE   EQUATOR. 

It  had  an  endless  fascination  for  me,  who  had 
never  before  seen  a  walled  town  or  lived  by  the 
sea,  to  go  there  and  look  far  down  and  out  on 
the  bare,  jagged,  far-stretching  reefs,  or  see  the 
sea  come  swelling  in  high  and  dashing  foam, 
rising  so  fast  and  high  over  the  long  reef  and 
mounting  up  the  side  of  the  lofty  look-out.  A 
majestic  and  awful  sight  that  never  lost  its  im- 
press of  man's  helplessness  before  Nature's 
might. 

Now,  I  was  to  see  this  from  below.  From 
those  dangerous  reefs.  From  a  frail  native 
boat  manned  by  not  too  friendly  native  Indians. 
And  in  the  night-time,  when  moonlight  makes 
such  misleading  appearances. 

When  we  were  back  in  the  boat  —  fairly  com- 
mitted to  this  ordeal  —  Shakespeare  was  no 
longer  a  help  and  pastime.  We  were  honestly 
quiet  and  serious.  Even  the  crew  now  rowed 
well.  In  silence,  with  steady  long  strokes  that 
told,  and  when  the  wind  rose  they  were  quick 
and  silent  in  shifting  sail  to  catch  every  favor- 


A    PICNIC    NEAR    THE    EQUATOR.  67 

ing  turn.  Their  lives  too  were  at  stake.  They 
knew  the  water-gate,  the  one  breach  in  the 
huge  wall,  was  always  closed  at  the  rising  of 
the  tide  to  a  certain  height  —  after  that  any 
unlucky  late  boat  was  dashed  against  the 
solid  wall. 

The  Commissioner  had  had  a  quiet  talk  with 
the  Patron  and  told  him  if  he  got  us  in  early  he 
would  take  him  up  to  the  hotel  and  give  him  a 
good  reward  for  himself  and  a  "  gratification  " 
for  his  men. 

"  Now  all  was  done  that  man  could  do  "  to 
better  the  case,  but  it  was  a  long  row  and  only 
a  languid  wind  came  up  with  the  moon  ;  and 
we  had  still  the  whole  reef  between  us  and  the 
town  long  after  the  time  calculated  upon. 

The  crew  were  doing  their  best  —  threading 
skillfully  the  little  channels  forming  already 
between  beds  of  rock,  feeling  their  way  in,  step 
by  step,  to  the  best  point  for  a  final  push  to  the 
water-gate  when  the  tide  should  have  lifted  us 
high  enough  to  clear  the  rocks. 


68  A    PICNIC   NEAR   THE    EQUATOR. 

If  you  know  sea-life  you  can  imagine  the 
certain  risks  of  all  this. 

Working  along  this  way  we  neared  a  ledge 
higher  and  rougher  than  those  behind  us.  The 
lines  of  water  were  growing  fuller  and  broader, 
but  this  broken  ledge  still  rose  jagged  and  bare. 

Then  the  Surveyor,  Mr.  Giey,  said  he  was 
going  to  get  off  there,  and  make  his  way  by  aid 
of  that  higher  ledge  lo  the  end  of  the  long 
wharf,  about  a  mile.  It  was  impossible  for  a 
boat  to  follow  that  shorter  way  ;  but  by  jumping 
and  wading  —  perhaps  even  at  some  places 
s\\imming  —  he  thought  he  could  get  into  the 
town  more  quickly  than  we  could,  and  have  the 
water-gate  kept  open  for  us;  have  lights  put 
there  to  guide  us,  and  on  the  rampart  above  the 
gate  also. 

During  the  long  detention  in  Panama  he  had 
studied  the  formation  of  this  bay  and  knew  it 
fairly  well  by  charts  and  by  sight,  and  felt 
sure  he  could  work  his  way  to  the  wharf  which 
was  built  out  on  this  higher  ledge. 


A    PICNIC    NEAR    THE    EQUATOR.  69 

Anyway  he  would  try.  It  was  a  race  with  the 
tide  which  might  have  already  filled  some  of  the 
deeper  chasms,  but  he  must  try  —  he  would  not 
sit  helpless  and  let  us  drift  with  the  tide,  which 
was  frothing  high  behind  us,  sending  us  forward 
with  sudden  swells,  then  pulling  us  back  to  be 
shot  forward  again.  The  Patron,  familiar  with 
these  reefs,  cried  out  against  his  going:  "it 
could  not  be  done  —  he  would  be  cut  off  by 
deep  water  in  channels — there  was  no  swim- 
ming against  the  wash  of  the  tide  —  he  would 
have  falls  —  and  any  way  his  feet  would  soon 
be  too  cut  for  him  to  walk." 

But  he  would  go.  The  crew  held  the  boat 
alongside  a  rock  he  could  step  upon,  and  we 
were  borne  away  from  him  as  he  stood  a  mo- 
ment waving  his  hand  to  us  —  a  brave  young 
figure  on  its  pedestal  of  rock  surrounded  by 
seething  waters  ;  the  Indians  crying  out,  ""Leva 
murir.  He  goes  to  die  !  "  but  we  called,  "  God  . 
keep  you  !  "  —  then  settled  down  to  our  fate. 

As    I   am  living,   you    know   we    did  get   in 


70  A    PICNIC    NEAR    THE    EQUATOR. 

safely.  There  were  horrid  sickening  moments 
when  we  were  urged  forward  by  the  tide  rush, 
and  the  Indians  put  out  all  their  skill  to  prevent 
the  boat  from  upsetting ;  but  soon  the  waters 
were  so  high  they  were  able  to  row  to  more 
advantage. 

It  was  a  long  time. 

Then  came  the  sudden  flare  of  a  light  low 
down  on  the  towering  wall  that  told  the  gate  was 
lighted,  and  quickly  more  lights  leaped  up  above. 
Our  hearts  swelled  with  joy  that  Mr.  Grey  was 
safe,  and  thanks  for  our  own  safety. 

As  we  shot  through  the  slimy  tunnel  of  the 
water-gate  its  doors  were  clanged-to,  and  we 
were  again  on  firm  ground  and  in  the  midst  of 
friendly  helping  people. 

It  was  quite  midnight ;  the  night  of  Good 
Friday,  and  the  streets  were  filled  with  people, 
the  upper  classes  as  well  as  the  Indians  carry- 
ing lighted  candles  and  making  cries  of  distress. 
It  was  their  realistic  way  of  interpreting  the 
disappearance  from  the  Tomb. 


A    PICNIC    NEAR    THE    EQUATOR.  71 

Their  custom  was  to  make  search  in  this  way, 
and  until  morning  the  lamentation  and  search 
would  be  kept  up. 

The  Cathedral  was  on  our  way  to  the  hotel 
and  we  turned  in  there  to  see  this  strange 
exhibition. 

At  the  entrance  was  a  scenic  representation 
of  the  Tomb  —  now  empty  —  surrounded  by 
life-size  wax  figures  of  the  group  of  sacred  his- 
tory and "  the  guarding  angels.  The  Indians 
crowded  up,  looked  into  the  empty  tomb  and 
broke  into  cries  of  distress,  then  scattered, 
candle  in  hand,  joining  the  crowds  in  the  streets. 
At  sunrise  all  this  was  to  change  into  noisy 
demonstrations  of  joy,  and  a  life-size  wax-figure 
of  the  Christ,  restored  to  life,  would  be  dis- 
played at  the  altar. 

Meantime  the  cries  of  so  many  people  acting 
on  nerves  already  strained  quite  upset  our  Com- 
missioner. He  was  at  the  end  of  his  patience 
with  Indians.  Looking  up  the  narrow  streets 
of  old  wooden  buildings,  with  their  overhanging 


72  A    PICNIC    NEAR    THE    EQUATOR. 

balconies  all  dried  to  tinder  by  time  and  sun,  he 
growled  out,  "  They  will  set  the  old  town  on  fire, 
and  we  will  only  be  out  of  the  sea  into  the 
fire." 

But  nothing  happened  to  break  the  deep 
sleep  which  was  the  best  restorer  after  such 
exposure  and  anxiety.  Nor  did  any  ill  effects 
follow. 

The  Patron  came  with  us  to  the  hotel  and 
was  made  glad  by  his  promised  reward.  Also 
he  was  reported  to  the  authorities  next  day,  and 
by  them  promptly  put  in  the  dreaded  "  chain- 
gang,"  himself  and  his  crew.  I  was  over-ruled 
in  asking  for  mercy,  for  they  had  worked  beau- 
tifully at  the  last,  but  it  was  held  that  in  proper 
care  of  other  travelers  they  must  have  their 
lesson. 

Which  they  learned  less  at  their  ease  than 
when  they  kept  us  in  the  hot  sun  while  they  idled 
and  smoked  and  ate  their  rice  and  bananas  and 
made  their  jokes  on  our  hunger.  The  chain- 
gang  is  a  useful  institution  common  to  southern 


A    PICNIC    NEAR    THE    EQUATOR.  73 

places,  where  people  who  have  deserved  pun- 
ishment are  locked  to  a  long  chain,  and  in  this 
way  made  to  clean  the  streets  or  do  some  pub- 
lic work. 

It  carries  shame  as  well  as  punishment  and 
the  Patron  was,  in  his  way,  a  man  of  impor- 
tance. But  he  had,  deliberately,  put  us  in 
great  danger  from  which  we  might  not  have  come 
out  but  for  Mr.  Grey's  risking  his  life. 

He  had  the  will,  and  he  made  the  way,  to 
secure  our  safety.  It  was  a  bold  and  risky  ad- 
venture. He  only  knew  the  reefs  by  charts,  and 
as  they  looked  by  daylight.  To  follow  this 
ledge  by  moonlight  with  a  twenty-six-foot  tide 
chasing  him  was  what  is  called  "  fool-hardy"  if 
one  fails,  but  "  heroic  "  if  successful. 

He  had  had  to  wait  chances  to  get  across  de- 
pressions nearly  neck- deep  in  surging  water,  both 
hands  and  feet  were  badly  cut,  for  he  had  to 
climb  and  cling  fast  to  sharp  jags  of  rock,  and 
he  was  all  bruised  and  rolled  by  heavy  washes 
of  the  tide  —  but  he  won  through. 


74  A    PICNIC    NEAR    THE    EQUATOR. 

To  the  Panama  people  he  was  a  wonder  — 
they  knew  what  he  had  risked  ;  and  we  were 
proud  of  our  young  countryman  ;  and  deeply 
grateful,  for  we  felt  that  to  him  we  owed  our 
lives. 


IV. 
PLAY   AND   WORK. 

YOU  have  never  seen  Niagara  !  Really  ? 
Neither  in  summer  or  winter  ?  You 
ought  to  be  ashamed  to  confess  it." 

"But  I  am  not  ashamed.  I  have  seen  the 
Yosemite  when  it  was  a  risky  horseback  journey 
to  get  there  — will  not  that  balance  Niagara?" 

But  our  English  visitor  with  Niagara  in  her 
head  made  so  much  of  seeing  it  a  second  time 
in  its  winter  splendors  of  snow  and  ice  that  we 
offered  to  take  her  there ;  and  twenty-four 
hours  later  we  were  on  our  way  with  our  small 
house-party  of  six.  A  few  telegrams  had  settled 
for  permission  to  take  along  two  delightful  young 
people  staying  with  us  for  the  Christmas  week, 
and  had  asked  to  stop  over  a  day  on  our  return 
75 


76  PLAY    AND    WORK. 

with  a  friend  I  loved,  and  who  lived  near  one 
of  the  largest  towns  on  the  railway  we  were 
to  take.  Her  answering  telegram  said  "Yes 
indeed.  Bring  six  or  twelve.  We  have  room 
and  hearty  welcome  for  you  all." 

Myself  I  was  not  an  enthusiast  for  leaving 
my  own  warm  country-house  and  going  into 
winter  travel  and  cold  empty  hotels;  but  we 
did  it,  and  met  better  luck  than  could  have 
been  counted  on.  The  Russian  Grand  Duke 
Alexis  was  to  visit  Niagara  and  the  only  hotel 
there  which  kept  open  in  winter  we  found  in 
gala  dress ;  a  committee  from  New  York  hav- 
ing brought  a  staff  of  cooks  and  servants  and 
made  all  ready  for  the  Duke,  and  as  we  arrived 
two  days  before  him  we  had  the  good  of  all  this 
preparation.  A  luxury  of  comfort  we  appre- 
ciated after  the  long  day  of  bitter  cold,  and 
tramping  from  our  sleighs  to  points  of  view ; 
climbing  with  the  help  of  stout  guides  and  iron- 
shod  sticks  over  packs  of  ice  and  frozen  heaps 
of  earth.  Niagara  was  indeed  superbly  grand 


PLAY   AND    WORK.  77 

and  sublime  in  its  solitude  and  frozen  splendor. 
But  even  the  English  traveler  had  enough  in  one 
day;  and  felt  the  proper  Christmas  conditions 
within  doors  —  "  You  Americans  certainly  under- 
stand warming  your  houses  "  —  nor  was  the 
Delmonico  cook  without  pleasing  influence. 

The  next  afternoon  as  we  ran  into  her  sta- 
tion my  friend  Mary  waved  her  whip  to  us 
from  her  big  hooded-sleigh  and  soon  we  were 
packed  in  its  furs  and  gliding  along  to  her 
country  home. 

An  old  home  that  had  been  for  generations 
in  their  family ;  who  loved  it  and  lived  in  it  and 
had  their  long  friendships  with  all  around  them, 
gentle  and  simple  —  there  came  a  cheery  "Good- 
morning,  Miss  Mary,"  from  everything  we  met 
on  that  sparkling  sun-lit  drive  ;  passing  beautiful 
country  places  and  fine  trees,  sheathed  in  ice 
now,  until  turning  into  a  side  road  we  came 
upon  the  house.  Gray,  very  long,  and  irregular 
from  capricious  additions,  with  many  chimneys 
and  every  kind  of  windows  from  trie  old-time 


78  PLAY   AND   WORK. 

"dormer"  to  the  latest  added  bow-windows,  it. 
was  a  growth  and  told  of  many  years  of  home 
tastes  as  it  stood  among  old  trees  on  a  lawn 
sloping  to  the  lake.  And  so  many  and  large 
were  the  out-buildings  that  it  seemed  a  village 
to  itself.  Beautiful  friendly  dogs  ran  out  to 
meet  the  sleigh  and  on  the  sunny  door-porch 
waited  the  gentle,  courteous,  handsome  heads 
of  the  house. 

The  English  lady  was  enchanted  :  "  Now  you 
show  me  something  I  thought  as  exclusively 
English  as  your  Niagara  is  American."  She 
was  made  welcome  with  a  simplicity  of  quiet 
good  breeding  as  well  as  good-will  that  we 
know  is  very  American,  but  as  yet  she  had  not 
rid  herself  of  pre-conceived  ideas  of  business- 
rush  and  want  of  leisurely  life  —  nor  indeed  did 
she  realize  the  preference  for  it  which  so  many 
have  but  cannot  indulge. 

This  was  a  large  family  and  they  had  fallen 
into  permanent  living  in  their  country-home  ;  at 
first  for  the  children,  and  as  they  married  or 


PLAY    AND    WORK.  79 

went  into  active  life  the  parents  remained  from 
choice,  and  as  they  were  near  a  great  railroad 
the  young  families  revisited  home  easily  and 
often.  My  Mary  did  not  marry.  A  long  period 
of  ill-health  from  injured  lungs  made  her  think 
she  ought  not,  and  the  death  of  a  sister  from  con- 
sumption decided  her.  She  was  the  home-angel, 
taking  all  thought  from  her  delicate  mother,  and 
becoming  her  father's  closest  friend  and  com- 
panion—  not  too  strong  herself  but  with  a  heart 
and  will  that  lifted  from  her  parents  all  possible 
cares.  They  were  happy  in  only  knowing  such 
cares  as  the  happiest  life  must  bring  —  the  sor- 
rows from  separations,  illnesses,  deaths.  They 
were  free  from  any  business  connection  and  its 
anxieties ;  for  living  on  an  inherited  estate  and 
with  sufficient  income,  the  father's  occupations 
were  his  family  and  his  estate,  and  his  fine 
library  ;  the  mother's  good  works  and  loving 
care  for  children  and  grandchildren.  It  was 
indeed  a  sheltered  home  of  peace. 

Even  their  last  rest  was  among  themselves  ; 


8o  PLAY    AND    WORK. 

the  "  God's-acre  "  of  the  family  was  on  a  hillside 
facing  the  sunrise  and  looking  over  the  lake  ; 
there  in  a  grove  of  pines  were  those  who  had 
"gone  before,"  near  enough  to  be  constantly 
visited  and  flower-tended  —  it  was  always  home 
for  all. 

We  were  there  two  days  and  its  gentle  influ- 
ence sank  into  our  busier  lives.  Mary  said  it 
was  dull  to  her  at  times,  but  after  her  many 
flying  visits  to  friends  she  always  came  back  to 
it  with  a  profound  gratitude  for  its  unbroken 
calm.  "Anything  else,"  she  said,  "would  not 
be  understood  now  by  my  parents.  Its  serene 
atmosphere  is  to  their  minds  what  that  even 
climate  of  Nassau  was  to  my  lungs.  And  I 
find  that  excitement  and  unexpected  things  hurt 
my  health,  good  as  it  is  when  I  live  quietly." 
She  said,  "  I  am  not  to  run  the  race  of  life  — 
I  must  be  content  with  a  traveler's-jog." 

In  summer  they  saw  a  great  deal  of  company, 
but  Mary  had  still  to  watch  her  health  in  winter, 
and  was  often  in  Washington  during  the  harsh 


PLAY    AND    WORK.  8 1 

months ;  and  I  was  among  the  few  intimate 
friends  to  whom  she  came,  at  any  time,  in  New 
York  also. 

It  was  a  secluded  life  but  far  from  being 
selfishly  so.  The  fine  library  set  apart  many 
books  for  lending  —  the  mother's  deeply  reli- 
gious feelings  added  books  of  her  choosing, 
and  friends  and  neighbors  of  all  degree  were 
invited  and  made  welcome  to  use  them.  Pleas- 
ant interchange  of  thought,  and  for  the  younger 
people  willing  explanations  and  instruction  came 
naturally  from  this  —  it  was  the  Chautauqua  idea 
in  little. 

Into  this  smooth  life  came  a  rude  blast.  The 
railway  panic  of  1873  was  one  of  those  business- 
cyclones  which  spared  no  one.  Ruin  fell  far 
and  wide.  Mary's  people  who  knew  themselves 
to  be  outside  of  business  investments  found 
their  younger  branches  hurt,  and  their  tenants 
in  town  so  prostrated  that  their  best  sources  of 
income  were  cut  off.  It  was  one  of  the  times 
of  general,  almost  universal  loss  and  confusion 


82  PLAY   AND   WORK. 

in  business,  and  we  are  all  so  interwoven  in 
modern  days  that  what  hurts  one  hurts  many. 
Land,  and  even  excellent  town  properties,  could 
only  be  sold  at  ruinous  loss  and  so  many  were 
forced  to  sell  that  no  one  would  buy. 

For  the  first  time  this  family  found  itself 
unable  to  give  help — to  share  ;  even  the  usual 
luxuries  of  summer  sea-side  travel  and  many 
new  books  for  winter  they  denied  themselves 
that  they  might  be  of  use  to  the  young  families. 

Mary  felt  she  could  not  let  this  go  on  another 
summer  and  yet  there  was  no  lift  in  business. 
She  did  some  solid  thinking  and  quickly  came 
to  me  to  consult  over  a  plan  she  had  at  heart. 

"  You  see,"  she  said,  "  I  am  a  really  excellent 
housekeeper.  Living  so  out  of  the  way,  with 
such  a  crowd  of  family  and  friends  coming  un- 
expectedly at  all  times  to  us,  I  found  I  had  to 
know  how  to  do  things  myself  in  case  servants 
were  sick  or  cross.  I  found  I  had  to  keep  ready 
stores  of  preserves  and  jams  and  jellies  and  fine 
pickles.  We  have  so  much  fruit  that  it  was  easy 


PLAY   AND    WORK.  83 

to  make  these  ready  and  I  learned  the  best  ways 
from  Mailliard  *  himself.  I  can  crystallize  fruit 
and  make  fine  and  pretty  things  in  cakes  as  well 
as  fruits  —  in  short  it  has  been  both  study  and 
practice  for  me  to  know  how  to  prepare  the 
luxuries  of  the  table. 

"I  know  that  confectioners  must  make  lots 
of  profit.  So  I  want  to  use  our  wasted  quanti- 
ties of  strawberries  and  currants  and  cherries, 
our  loads  and  loads  of  peaches  and  even  apples 
—  I  can  make  delightful  jellies  and  marmalades 
of  apple  and  quince  or  apple  and  pear.  You 
know  I  took  lessons  in  all  that  sort  of  thing  and 
I  have  some  experience.  Every  year  I  put  up 
and  send  to  the  girls  and  to  friends  gallons  and 
gallons  of  these  things.  I  like  to  do  it.  Our 
farmers'  daughters  have  many  of  them  been 
trained  by  me  and  some  of  them  come  to  me 
always  through  the  busiest  fruit  season.  Now, 
I  could  employ  them  on  shares  —  their  fathers 
work  our  farms  on  shares  — -  they  will  like  earn- 

*  The  first  confectioner,  in  old  times,  in  New  York. 


84  PLAY   AND    WORK. 

ing  something  in  these  hard  times  by  their  work 
in  such  a  light  and  pleasant  way. 

"What  I  have  done  for  pleasure  I  want  now 
to  do  for  profit  and  I  feel  sure  it  will  bring  some 

ready  money  —  we  have  too  little  of  that  lately. 

• 

The  drawback  is  it  would  make  my  father  ill  — 
he  would  feel  hurt  beyond  comforting  if  he  found 
I  was  working  for  money. 

"  I  am  going  to  talk  with  Alice  also  "  (Alice 
was  a  dear  woman,  beautiful  and  clever  and  with 
fortune  and  fashion  at  her  command).  "  If  you 
two  say  yes,  I  will  manage  to  do  it  so  father  will 
not  know  of  it  —  for  myself  I  would  go  to  work 
with  my  kettles  in  Madison  Square  rather  than 
let  go  an  acre  of  our  home." 

So  it  was  settled.  Not  only  the  good  Alice  but 
some  capable  men,  old  friends,  made  arrange- 
ments for  the  sales. 

"Let  us  call  them  Mrs.  Comfort's  Home- 
made Preserves."  said  Alice. 

"I  will  send  you  the  first  crates  of  self-sealing 
jars,  Molly,  for  good  luck,"  said  one  friend. 


PLAY   AND    WORK.  85 

And  another  family-friend,  a  gray  and  scarred 
Confederate  officer  said,  "  We  have  no  money, 
you  know,  but  I  put  in  the  first  hogshead  of 
sugar."  And  so,  cheered  and  approved,  Mary's 
idea  took  shape  and  was  launched.  And  it 
brought  a  success  that  made  her  happy. 

When  the  next  summer's  heats  came,  Mary 
told  her  father  he  must  go  to  the  seaside,  that 
they  could  well  afford  it,  and  she  gave  him  the 
few  hundreds  her  venture  had  brought.  He 
grew  white  with  distress:  "You  have  been  bor- 
rowing money  ! "  "  No,  father !  earning  it." 

This  less  painful  alternative  helped  to  make 
her  story  easier  to  tell.  But  it  was  a  great  pain 
to  him.  Mary  had  for  a  long  time  no  home- 
strength —  only  her  own  brave  will  and  clear 
sense  of  right. 

From  this  on,  though,  it  became  a  delightful 
story  of  success.  I  had  been  away  for  two 
years,  and  coming  back  found  Mary  so  fresh 
and  active,  so  handsome,  I  told  her  she  was 
going  back  to  her  girlhood  days. 


86  PLAY   AND   WORK. 

"My  dear,"  she  said,  "it  is  because  I  am 
making  money." 

It  was  just  a  delight  to  see  her  telling  of  her 
success.  The  first  year  proved  she  could  suc- 
ceed, and  too  largely  for  the  resources  of  even 
her  own  large  farms  —  even  of  their  neighbor- 
hood. Then  so  much  fruit  was  hurt  in  the 
transportation  that  it  was  decided  to  move  her 
"  workshop  "  as  she  called  it  to  near  New  York 
where  she  had  the  choice  of  all  the  fruit  markets 
there,  and  experienced  assistance  in  buying  it 
in  the  best  way,  wholesale.  She  engaged  two 
sisters,  Boston  girls  of  good  position  and  educa- 
tion, as  book-keeper  and  overseer,  and  upper- 
class  Swedish  girls  for  the  actual  work  ;  she 
herself  was  the  active  head. 

It  was  all  woman's  work,  and  the  whole  busi- 
ness was  co-operative.  Each  one  working  had 
their  pro-rata  share  in  the  receipts.  So  all 
worked  heartily  and  with  the  interest  people 
can  only  feel  who  work  for  themselves.  Mary's 
society  friends  secured  her  every  advantage  and 


PLAY    AND    WORK.  87 

gave  her  good  ideas  also.  They  got  for  her 
large  contracts  for  yacht-clubs  and  for  one  ocean- 
steamer  line,  and  the  first  houses  of  New  York 
took  all  she  could  supply.  Everything  was  so 
exquisitely  dainty  and  good,  and  these  business 
houses  had  a  custom  that  was  willing  to  pay  for 
reliable  things.  There  was  character  in  these 
preserves  as  well  as  the  best  fruits  and  sugar. 

Of  course  with  such  large  work  in  New  York 
she  could  not  be  so  much  at  home,  but  a  mar- 
ried sister  took  her  place  there,  and  she  fitted 
up  a  cottage  and  put  up  a  large  "  workshop " 
just  by  the  country-place  of  her  friend  Alice. 

Every  year  she  was  putting  by  a  good  sum 
of  money.  All  expenses  and  shares  paid,  she 
averaged  a  clear  net  income  for  herself  that 
many  a  professional  man  would  be  thankful  for, 
and  the  business  troubles  of  the  country  being 
over  their  town  properties  were  again  bringing 
rents  and  the  old  home  was  at  peace. 

Her  kind  father  had  continued  his  former 
tenants  in  the  various  warehouses  and  buildings 


88  PLAY   AND    WORK. 

— " they  were  good  people,"  he  said;  "they  will 
pay  when  they  can  ;  and  meantime  they  are 
faithful  in  taking  care  of  the  property." 

Mary's  exertions  were  no  longer  needed,  but 
she  had  had  her  lesson  in  the  instability  of 
fortune  and  chose  to  keep  on  with  her  work. 
But  for  strong  friends  in  New  York  it  could  not 
have  been  made  so  immediately  and  so  largely 
profitable,  nor  could  she  alone  have  placed  it 
on  so  solid  a  foundation  ;  and  she  would  now  do 
her  part  to  deserve  their  friendly  upholding. 

Busy,  and  more  affectionately  considered  than 
ever  by  her  friends,  hers  was  an  enlarging  and 
truly  happy  life. 

This  most  pleasant  life  was  hers  but  a  few 
years  longer.  A  cold,  not  soon  enough  taken 
care  of,  brought  on  congestion  of  the  lungs  and 
alas  of  the  high-strung  active  brain.  From  the 
first  of  the  delirium  she  knew  nothing  more  and 
life  ended  quickly  and  unconsciously. 

She  rests  in  the  "  God's-acre  "  of  her  home 
for  which  she  did  so  much. 


PLAY   AND    WORK.  89 

But  her  work  remains  as  a  proof  of  what  a 
woman's  mind  and  will  can  do  to  make  a  way 
out  of  hard  business  care. 

Struck  down  in  full  activity,  unable  to  speak 
or  think,  yet  her  account-books  and  affairs 
were  in  such  complete  business  shape  that  they 
went  on  —  always  in  honorable  hands  —  and 
remain  still  a  profitable  business. 

And  this  was  the  thought  and  the  work  of  a 
woman  still  young,  a  favorite  in  the  best  society, 
who  had  been  exceptionally  sheltered  from  all 
but  the  secure  sunny  side  of  life. 

But  as  we  all  act  in  emergencies  not  so  much 
from  the  demand  of  the  hour  as  from  our  under- 
lying habit  of  thought  and  custom,  so  that  loving 
care  for  home  in  peaceful  days  became  in  dark 
days  imperative  duty — nerving  her  for  what 
she  quailed  before  as  her  father  did  for  her  — 
the  coming  into  publicity  and  careless  comment. 
But  it  was  the  only  way  out,  and  she  accepted 
everything  to  shield  the  home.  She  fell  with 
her  armor  on,  but  not  until  victory  was  won. 


V. 

A  LONG  HORROR. 

jf  HOPE  Madame  will  be  satisfied  now," 
J-  grumbled  the  concierge  to  the  cook,  "  her  big 
dog  has  come  back.  It  bolted  past  me  as  I  was 
just  looking  out  to  see  if  the  rain  was  over, 
and  never  minded  my  call,  but  ran  up  the  grand 
stairs  tracking  mud  and  wet  into  the  carpet. 
Jean  says  he  just  had  to  let  it  rush  into  Ma- 
dame's  boudoir,  and  there  it  lies  on  the  white 
i 

fur  before  the  fire  —  and  so  cross !  he  had  to 
let  him  alone.  Jean  tried  to  take  him  away  to 
feed  him  —  he  looks  starved  —  but  the  dog 
showed  his  teeth — ma  foil  let  him  keep  his 
hunger.  How  many  Christians  do  not  get  the 
good  food  and  the  baths  Madame  has  made  us 
give  this  great  brute  !  He  has  not  been  bathed 
90 


A   LONG    HORROR.  9! 

and  fed  while  he  was  lost  —  eh  !  but  he  is  thin. 
He  has  had  his  turn  of  poverty  and  want. 
These  rich,  they  care  for  nothing  but  their 
pleasures  —  their  dogs  are  more  to  them  than 
the  poor,"  snarled  on  the  woman,  a  genuine 
Parisian  of  the  "  discontented  class,"  with  com- 
munist poison  in  her  heart  while  her  soft  flat- 
tering ways  gained  her  much  money  from  those 
same  "  riches."  And  the  comfortable  servants 
agreed  "  the  rich  have  no  heart  "  (a  favorite 
saying  among  that  set  of  Paris  people),  and  that 
there  ought  to  be  no  rich  class  —  that  all  should 
be  equal.  Meantime  they  sat  idle  in  the  warmth 
and  well-fed  condition  they  owed  to  these  "  heart- 
less "  people. 

Above,  in  a  charming  room,  all  pale  silk  and 
sweet  with  flowers,  in  his  familiar  place  on  the 
white  fur-rug  before  the  fire  lay  the  tawny  mas- 
tiff ;  a  big,  panther-like  creature  now  haggard 
from  hunger  and  defaced  with  stains  of  mud,  for 
he  had  been  lost  for  a  week,  greatly  to  his  mis- 
tress's sorrow.  Outside,  the  winter  rain  beat  on 


92  A    LONG    HORROR. 

the  windows,  but  the  air  within  was  soft  as  sum- 
mer, yet  the  dog  shivered  again  and  again. 
The  servant,  looking  in  to  keep  up  the  fire  for 
the  return  of  the  young  people  who  were  dining 
out,  retreated  from  the  angry  growl  of  the  great 
creature  who  was  usually  so  gentle.  "  They 
must  have  beaten  him,"  thought  prudent  Jean, 
"  as  well  as  starved  him.  I  must  let  sleeping 
dogs  lie." 

Presently  came  the  roll  of  the  carriage  through 
\htporte-cochere,  and  then  the  rustle  of  silk  and 
light  footsteps  were  heard  as  the  young  Count- 
ess ran  up,  eager  to  see  her  dog  again  and  call- 
ing his  name  as  she  ran  in.  She  was  surprised 
to  see  him  retreat  to  the  furthest  corner  of  the 
room,  and  as  she  impetuously  fell  on  her  knees 
by  him  and  caressed  the  big  head  he  jerked 
back  —  then  with  a  rough  shrieking  cry  sprang 
at  her  and  fastened  his  cruel  long  teeth  in  the 
happy  young  face. 

Instantly  her  husband  attacked  the  dog,  pull- 
ing it  off  and  turning  its  fury  on  himself.  Though 


A    LONG    HORROR.  93 

an  athlete,  and  splendid  in  strength  and  skill, 
the  Count  could  barely  succeed  in  the  effort  he 
made  to  beat  and  drive  and  compel  the  dog  to 
the  door  of  an  adjoining  room  —  fortunately  the 
door  opened  inward.  Through  this,  with  a 
mighty  effort,  he  hurled  the  frantic  animal  and 
got  the  door  closed  before  it  was  again  on  ijs 
feet. 

His  right  hand  and  arm  were  torn  and  man- 
gled, and  his  heart  sick  and  faint  at  the  sight  of 
his  wife's  agonized  eyes  and  bleeding  face. 

But  quicker  than  it  can  be  told  he  acted.  To 
save  her  was  the  first  thought.  On  the  table 
were  candles  and  by  them  her  work-box.  He 
took  out  the  steel  "  puncher "  which  she  used 
in  her  embroidery  and  held  it  in  the  flame  of 
a  candle  until  it  was  red-hot  —  speaking  mean- 
while to  her  rapidly.  "  I  shall  have  to  hurt  you 
so  horribly,"  he  said ;  "  I  must  do  it  to  save 
you  —  you  must  let  me  cauterize  the  bites  in- 
stantly." And  she,  poor  soul,  lay  down  on  a 
sofa  while  he  lifted  the  upper  lip  which  had 


94  A    LONG    HORROR. 

been  bitten  through  in  two  places  where  the 
dog's  long  teeth  had  met  as  it  snapped  at  her 
mouth ;  he  drew  rapidly  the  hot  steel  point 
along  the  under  side  to  stop  the  spread  of  the 
poison.  She  fainted.  This  made  it  less  hard 
for  him  to  go  on  —  again  heating  the  puncher 
the  two  wounds  were  quickly  cauterized. 

Then  he  thrust  the  poker  into  the  glowing 
coals,  and  while  it  was  heating  threw  open  the 
window  and  called  loudly  :  "  Au  secours  /" 

To  the  answering  passer-by  he  told  there  was 
a  mad  dog  shut  up  now  in  one  of  his  rooms, 
that  two  persons  had  been  bitten  by  it,  that  he 
wanted  physicians,  instantly,  and  the  police  to 
remove  the  dog,  and  gave  his  name  and  address. 

The  servants  had  fled  at  the  first  alarm  and 
they  were  quite  alone.  The  dog  howling,  the 
wind  and  rain  coming  in  at  the  window,  wide 
open,  as  French  windows  are  down  to  the  floor. 

But  so  prompt  and  well  organized  is  the 
police  of  Paris  that  in  a  very  few  minutes  all 
was  done  as  he  had  asked.  Meantime  he  had 


A    LONG    HORROR.  95 

seared  his  own  arm  up  and  down  with  the  hot 
poker,  burning  deep  into  the  worst  bites  —  the 
poor  girl  still  lying  in  a  dead  faint. 

The  police  came  in  on  this  strange  scene. 
The  room  was  wrecked  by  the  struggles  of  the 
dog  and  the  wind  from  the  open  window  added 
to  the  disorder,  and  the  Countess  in  a  bloody 
evening  dress  lay  seemingly  dead. 

The  physicians  took  instant  charge  of  the 
two  wounded ;  while  strong  quiet  men  rolled 
forward  a  large  iron  cage.  They  placed  it  at 
the  door  of  the  room  where  the  dog  was  heard 
tearing  around  in  mad  fury.  The  iron  door  of 
the  cage  was  drawn  upward,  and  in  this  way 
the  whole  aperture  was  covered  when  the  door 
of  the  room  should  be  opened  ;  this  was  done 
with  a  jerk  and  the  crazed  animal  bounded  for- 
ward toward  the  lighted  room  and  peopje,  to 
find  himself  in  a  trap  which  was  instantly  se- 
cured by  the  drop  of  the  iron  door. 

And  in  this  way,  quickly  and  safely,  the  dog 
was  carried  off  to  be  kept  under  careful  medi- 


96  A    LONG    HORROR. 

cal  inspection  to  determine  the  nature  of  its 
frenzy.  This  was  before  Pasteur,  but  French 
science  is  always  alert  and  acute. 

Of  the  days  of  horrible  fear  and  anxiety  that 
followed  it  is  enough  to  tell  tha^t  within  the 
week  the  mastiff  died  of  unmistakable  "rabies  "  ; 
after  careful  watching  the  best  authorities 
agreed  on  this. 

Then  a  great  dread  fell  on  the  young  people. 
Only  time  could  decide  their  fate. 

The  parents  of  both  hastened  to  them. —  the 
young  Count  was  Russian  and  his  wife  Amer- 
ican ;  the  telegraph  had  summoned  these,  for 
who  could  say  how  soon  their  doom  would  over- 
take the  two  unfortunate  young  people ! 

Words  cannot  express  the  concentrated  grief, 
hope  and  terror  in  this  family  group. 

The  physicians  gathered  hope  from  the 
promptness  with  which  the  Count  had  cauter- 
ized the  wounds,  and  as  day  followed  day,  and 
weeks  added  themselves  to  more  weeks  without 
any  symptoms  of  danger,  they  insisted  the  young 


A    LONG    HORROR.  97 

people  should  accept  their  theory  of  hope,  and 
apply  themselves  with  all  their  will  to  not  think- 
ing about  possible  hydrophobia. 

They  insisted  on  this  saving  power  of  the 
will  which  could  only  come  from  themselves. 

Then-  began  for  this  young  couple  a  strange 
life.  Each  tried  to  outdo  the  other  in  effort 
for  forgetfulness  while  each  trembled  for  the 
other.  They  led  a  life  of  incessant  physical 
activity,  and  seeking  after  any  occupation  of 
mind  which  might  efface  that  night  of  horror. 
The  Countess  was  not  allowed  to  look  in  a  glass. 
Careful  hands  wound  a  thick  veil  about  the 
lower  part  of  her  face,  and  she  drove  her 
spirited  horses  until  she  tired  them  and  herself ; 
the  two  refused  to  be  separated  and  —  the 
Count's  arm  in  a  sling  —  they  were  seen  inces- 
santly; a  pathetic  pair  who  called  out  every 
one's  sympathy,  as  they  bravely  tried  to  wear 
themselves  into. fatigue  enough  to  quiet  nerves. 
Friends  talked  cheerfully  to  them  and  tried  to 
aid  them  in  the  necessary  turning  away  the 


98  A   LONG    HORROR. 

mind  from  what  was  a  dread  possibility,  but 
there  could  be  no  definite  limit  for  this  ordeal 
of  waiting.  They  traveled  to  America  with  her 
people,  when  the  physicians  permitted  the  jour- 
ney and  hope  had  begun  to  replace  fear.  It 
was  a  long  siege  of  will-power  against  ugly  fact 
and  torturing  chance. 

That  was  twelve  years  ago.  Both  are  living, 
and  no  illness  came  to  either.  To  the  Count's 
quick  action  and  firm  will  which  overmastered 
the  weakness  of  tenderness,  but  enabled  him 
to  inflict  still  more  pain  on  his  young  wife,  the 
physicians  thought  she  owed  her  safety.  There 
was  no  time  lost  in  treating  his  own  arm  and 
he  did  it  with  heroic  thoroughness.  It  may 
have  been  the  cauterizing,  it  may  have  been 
the  unknown  forces  of  nature,  but  both  were 
saved.  Hydrophobia  does  not  necessarily  fol- 
low even  from  bad  mangling  from  a  dog.  This 
many  of  us  know  for  ourselves. 

This  dog,  stolen,  and  doubtless  thrown  with 
many  dogs  out  of  condition,  was  carefully 


A    LONG    HORROR.  99 

watched  by  men  of  science  and  found  to  be 
genuinely  "mad."  An  instinct  of  affection  for 
its  mistress  made  him  retreat  from  her  —  I  have 
seen  the  same  thing  —  and  warn  her  off.  This 
was  warning  enough  to  one  knowing  the  won- 
derful instinct  of  a  fine  dog  ;  but  as  she  in  her 
thoughtless  insistence  took  the  big  head  in  a 
kind  caress  then  the  madness  broke  out. 

It  is  good  to  know  that  not  only  was  life 
saved  but  no  real  disfigurement  followed  for  the 
Countess.  One  bite  through  her  lip  healed 
fully,  leaving  only  a  faint  scar ;  the  other,  more 
on  the  cheek  than  the  lip,  remained  a  small 
open  hole  over  which  she  wears  a  little  patch 
of  court-plaster,  like  the  "  beauty-patch "  of 
old  days.  And  the  Count's  brave  right  arm  is 
true  and  strong  as  ever. 

But  the  Countess  has  never  regained  her 
brilliant  color.  Perfectly  pale,  and  with  her 
large  dark  eyes  keeping  still  an  intense  look  of 
almost  fear,  she  is  more  interesting  than  in  her 
gay,  untroubled  youth. 


VI. 

"MISSMILLY." 

THIS  little  lady  had  a  whole  name,  but  as 
her  grandmother  was  also  "  Mildred," 
and  in  the  Southern  way  was  always  called  by 
the  old  servants  "  Miss  Mildred,"  so  she  was 
their  "  Missmilly  " ;  and,  as  little  children  often 
do,  taking  the  whole  sound  for  one  word,  she 
called  herself  "  Missmilly,"  and  long  after  she  was 
past  childish  days  that  remained  her  pet  name. 
For  this  was  a  pet  child  —  a  happy  child  — 
quite  the  most  happy  and  petted  of  little  ones. 
She  was  an  only  child,  an  only  grandchild  — 
healthy,  but  so  small  and  dainty,  and  so  resem- 
bling a  little  one  —  now  only  a  memory  to  her 
grandparents  —  that  no  sounds  but  of  tender- 
ness ever  met  her  ears,  and  her  lovely  blue  eyes 


101 

saw  only  loving  faces,  from  that  of  her  dusky 
"  Mammy  "  up  to  her  splendid  grandfather  the 
Judge. 

The  outside  circle  of  relations  and  friends 
said,  "  That  child  will  be  ruined  —  she  never 
has  any  discipline  —  she  does  her  own  way  and 
every  one  agrees  with  her  —  she  is  let  to  do  just 
as  she  pleases." 

"  Of  course  she  does,"  the  Judge  would 
answer  with  politely  restrained  impatience, 
"  and  she  shall  go  on  pleasing  herself.  She  has 
no  need  of  training.  The  child's  instincts  are 
all  right  and  she  needs  only  good  examples  — 
it  is  we  who  must  train  ourselves  to  be  fit  for 
so  much  trust  and  such  clear  instinct  of  right. 
I  will  not  have  that  child  wounded  by  common 
rules.  And  she  is  not  strong.  She  must  grow 
up  in  the  sunshine  of  love  and  never  think  it 
can  fail  her.  No  one  shall  spoil  the  perfect 
trust  she  has  in  the  love  that  surrounds  her. 
She  will  know  the  difference  when  she  is  older 
—  time  enough  then  ;  we  cannot  follow  the 


102  "MISSMILLY." 

child  through  life,  but  while  she  is  just  ours 
she  shall  feel  that  she  can  do  no  wrong." 

She  was  the  most  reasonable  of  children 
because  always  she  was  gently  and  affection- 
ately told  why  certain  things  must  not  be,  and 
that  was  enough.  As  a  small  instance  :  she 
was  very  fond  of  "  roasting-ears  "  —  the  green 
corn  which  is  so  liked  in  the  South.  One  of 
the  "  disciplining  "  relations  was  greatly  struck 
with  Missmilly's  self-denial  at  her  house.  "  I 
should  not  have  let  corn  come  to  table,"  she 
said,  "  but  I  forgot  Milly  ought  not  to  eat  it  — 
now  she  will  want  it." 

"  No,"  said  Missmilly,  "  I  must  not  want  it. 
It  makes  Grandma  sorry  to  see  me  sick."  Then 
turning  to  the  smoking  platter:  "Oh!  tempta- 
tion-corn, how  good  you  smell !  but  my  stomach- 
machine  can't  grind  you." 

In  summer  they  lived  on  the  old  country 
place  which  was  but  half  a  day's  drive  from 
Washington,  where  the  Judge  had  to  be  in 
winter.  The  whole  family  kept  together  winter 


and  summer.  They  had  a  fine  roomy  town 
house  with  large  grounds  and  old  trees,  and 
here  were  the  same  old  family  servants  and 
their  children  trained  to  the  house  and  "  the 
ways  of  our  family  "  —  no  strangers  were  ever 
around  Milly. 

Even  her  papa  was  not  "  a  stranger  "  to  the 
family,  for  the  Judge  had  been  his  guardian  and 
knew  his  father  and  his  grandfather  before 
him.  Before  settling  down  to  attend  for  him- 
self to  his  estate  her  papa,  who  was  an  officer 
in  the  navy,  was  much  away.  His  people  — 
the  Judge,  too  —  had  made  the  "grand  tour"  to 
see  the  world  before  becoming  country  gentle- 
men and  taking  care  of  politics,  and  now  young 
Phil  was  making  his  grand  tour  as  a  naval 
officer.  For  this,  and  because  her  mother  was 
so  very  young,  they  were  not  to  have  a  separate 
house  until  "  Phil  "  should  resign ;  so  Milly 
was  seven  years  old  before  they  had  a  house  of 
their  own.  That  left  her  mamma  for  just  an- 
other pet  child  for  the  Judge,  and  she  and  the 


104 

young  aunts  and  Missmilly  were  all  a  happy 
young  lot  together. 

So  the  child  had  the  loveliest  time  all  the 
year  round.  While  she  was  very  little  her 
grandfather  would  take  her  before  him  on  his 
horse,  but  when  she  was  six  he  gave  her  a 
small  gentle  mare,  "Mattie,"  for  her  very  own, 
and  they  had  good  rides  together  followed  by 
the  favorite  dogs.  She  carried  the  basket  with 
the  ball  of  twine  when  her  grandmother  tied  up 
the  flowers  and  brought  it  in  full  of  roses. 

She  followed  Grandmamma  to  the  dairy,  and 
the  great  barnyard,  and  threw  corn  to  the 
chickens  and  turkeys  and  spent  her  days  in 
clear  air  and  sunshine  and  grew  stronger  all  the 
time.  They  would  not  let  her  learn  to  read. 
She  thought  too  much  anyhow,  and  it  was  not 
good  for  her  to  get  at  books  too  young.  But 
she  had  learned  many  things,  for  she  was 
always  answered  intelligently  and  patiently  and 
she  knew  she  only  needed  to  ask  and  some  one 
would  "  tell  all  about  it." 


"MISSMILLY."  I0$ 

The  most  delightful  time,  except  the  horseback 
rides,  came  after  she  was  made  all  fresh  and  ready 
for  the  night,  and  over  her  white  gown  was  put 
her  long  pink  flannel  gown  with  lace  frills  and 
pink  ribbons  —  "  my  grown-up  wrapper  "  —  then 
Mammy  carried  her  down  to  nestle  into  Grand- 
father's arms  for  "  a  good-night  story."  This 
was  a  happy  time  for  the  Judge,  too.  His 
strong,  kind  arm  held  her  curly  head  so  she 
could  watch  his  face  as  she  lay,  warm  and  rested, 
listening,  questioning,  arguing  —  he  arguing 
seriously  with  her ;  considering  nothing  a  trifle 
that  pleased  or  molded  the  young  mind  —  until 
the  eyelids  began  to  droop ;  then  his  firm  voice 
would  grow  more  low,  more  lingering  until  the 
blue  eyes  were  fast  for  the  night;  then  the 
Judge  himself  carried  her  up  to  her  little  bed. 

To  begin  again  the  next  evening  where  they 
had  left  off. 

Of  stories  of  horses  and  dogs  she  never 
wearied.  She  knew  all  about  her  grandfather's 
favorite  horses  and  hunting-dogs — from  these 


I06  "  MISSMILLY." 

they  roamed  afield  to  storied  animals ;  he  told 
her  of  the  famous  wooden  horse  and  the  burn- 
ing of  Troy,  of  the  faithful  dog  of  Ulysses  and 
its  master's  long  sea  travel  ("  like  papa  "),  of 
Phaeton's  bad  driving  and  Diana's  hounds. 
Diana  became  first  favorite  ;  the  rides  by  run- 
ning brooks  through  old  woods  made  real  to 
her  the  hunting  scenes  pictured  by  her  grand- 
father, and  she  had  a  true  love  for  nature.  A 
large  collection  of  fine  engravings  from  the 
Museum  of  the  Louvre  gave  form  to  many  of 
these  stories  which  she  liked — fortunately  —  to 
have  repeated  again  and  again. 

Here  too  her  relations  thought  it  wrong  for 
her  head  to  be  filled  with  pagan  lore,  but  these 
two  just  went  on  in  their  own  way  enjoying  the 
"good-night  talks." 

She  knew  her  Bible  stories  also,  but  Diana 
held  her  own  for  a  long  time. 

About  the  only  trouble  that  came  to  this 
happy  little  maiden  was  when  she  saw  her 
mother  quiet  and  sad.  Her  father  was  ill  from 


"MISSMILLY."  107 

fever  far,  far  away  ;  there  were  no  ocean  cables 
then,  and  the  suspense  of  the  long  waiting  for 
letters  was  very  hard.  When  at  last  papa  came 
home,  so  pale  and  thin,  he  made  them  all  glad 
by  resigning  from  the  navy  to  live  at  home  on 
his  own  large  property.  A  house  was  bought 
close  to  her  grandfather's  town  house  and  a 
gate  put  between  the  grounds  so  they  could 
come  and  go  by  their  own  path  under  the 
catalpa-trees.  Now  Milly  had  everybody  she 
loved. 

But  that  fever  had  hurt  her  father  and  left 
him  in  constant  pain,  and  he  was  told  to  travel 
to  some  German  springs  and  get  all  the  aches 
and  pains  out  of  him. 

So  instead  of  going  to  the  country  home  for 
the  summer,  she  went  with  her  mother  and 
father  across  the  ocean  ;  first  to  London,  where 
it  was  so  damp  they  hurried  over  to  Paris  — 
where  it  was  not  all  they  wanted  in  climate,  but 
it  was  lovely  to  wait  there  until  the  baths  were 
opened  for  the  season  at  Gastein. 


io8 

And  there  Milly  —  who  could  not  write  much 
—  dictated  many  letters  home  through  her  papa 
and  mamma  —  telling  the  dear  grandparents  of 
the  new  health  coming  back  to  her  father,  of 
her  mother's  laughing  and  having  her  pretty 
pink  cheeks  again,  and  that  they  all  went  to- 
gether nearly  every  day.  to  see  the  pictures  she 
used  to  hear  the  stories  of  at  home ;  that  she 
had  seen  all  her  "  good-night-people  "  —  Diana 
especially  —  many  Dianas  in  pictures  and  in 
marble,  and  that  over  the  great  gate  of  the 
Louvre,  Louis  xiv.  was  driving  the  chariot  of 
the  sun,  just  like  Phoebus.  And  that  papa  said 
she  was  "  a  funny  baby  "  to  know  about  them 
all,  but  she  liked  them  because  they  were  home- 
people. 

Now,  everywhere  there  are  people  who  think 
they  know  better  than  you  do  what  is  best  for 
you  to  do.  They  do  not  hesitate  to  break  up 
your  plans  and  set  you  to  carrying  out  their 
ideas. 

The  wife  of  the  American   Minister  looked 


"MISSMILLY."  109 

upon  Milly's  mother  as  a  mere  child  because 
she  had  been  a  friend  of  Milly's  grandmother 
when  they  were  both  young  girls  in  Virginia. 
So  she  was  very  positive  it  was  wrong  to  have 
little  Milly  just  enjoying  herself  in  this  easy, 
idle  way,  and  said  she  ought  to  be  working 
away  at  French  lessons:  "  The  child  is  nearly 
ten  —  she  ought  to  be  in  a  school ;  she  ought 
not  to  lose  this  opportunity  to  get  the  correct 
accent  —  she  is  picking  up  a  very  common 
accent  from  her  nurse  and  ought  to  be  put 
among  refined  French  girls  and  teachers  for  a 
few  months  until  the  correct  accent  is  formed." 

All  of  which,  persisted  in,  bothered  Milly's 
mother  very  much.  For  she  had  never  been 
to  a  school  herself  and  had  no  idea  how  to  live 
separated  from  her  one  little  child.  And  yet 
what  if  she  were  "  selfish  "  ?  and  not  just  to 
Milly  ?  And  she  was  very  young,  and  trained 
to  habits  of  respect  for  her  elders.  ft 

So  it  was  settled  that  as  they  were  to  be  some 
months  at  the  different  baths  and  "  cures," 


no  "MISSMILLY." 

Milly  should  for  that  time  stay  at  a  very  dis- 
tinguished school  in  Paris  where  every  extra  of 
attention  and  comfort  was  provided  for  her.  To 
"get  used  to  the  separation  "  Milly  was  to  begin 
at  once,  while  her  mother  could  go  to  see  her 
every  day,  and  have  her  at  home  for  Saturdays 
and  Sundays. 

It  was  against  her  feelings,  but  Milly's  mother 
had  a  general  idea  that  if  you  gave  up  what  you 
wanted  most  you  did  right.  That  was  not  her 
nature,  but  it  is  very  much  our  American 
training. 

Some  way  "  doing  right  "  did  not  make  either 
mother  or  child  contented,  or  "used  to  the  sep- 
aration "  —  not  one  bit. 

One  day  the  principal  came  into  the  parlor  in 
place  of  Milly  and  asked  the  mother  to  please 
not  to  come  daily  —  to  come  only  once  in  the 
week  —  for  the  child  watched  the  clock  and 
grew  feverish  towards  three.  "  It  is  not  good 
for  either  of  you,"  said  Madame  ;  "  pardon  me  — 
but  neither  of  you  is  showing  the  self-controJ 


"MISSMILLY.  in 

which  is  so  necessary,  and  which  I  am  sure  you 
feel  your  daughter  must  acquire." 

And  all  the  mother  could  get  was  permission 
to  see  Milly  that  time,  and  tell  her  herself  why 
she  could  not  see  her  every  day  : 

"  It  is  not  for  long,  darling  —  we  will  get  that 
horrid  accent  some  easier  way  soon,  for  I  can't 
stand  it,  and  you  shall  not.  Everything  is 
arranged  now  for  our  going,  but  soon  papa  will 
be  entirely  well,  and  then  we  will  go  back 
home." 

Well,  it  was  but  a  few  days  after  this  that 
while  the  girls  were  playing  "prisoner's  base" 
in  the  beautiful  large  grounds  of  this  school, 
one  of  the  elder  girls  fell  against  Milly  as  they 
raced,  and  the  shock  threw  her  forward  against 
a  tree  in  such  a  way  that  a  projecting  twig  gave 
her  a  hurt  to  the  eye  that  made  her  cry  out, 
then  fall  down  almost  fainting.  'For  this  was 
a  sensitive  nature,  body  and  mind. 

In  an  instant  the  teachers,  who  are  always 
watching  in  French  schools,  then  Madame  her- 


112  "MISSMILLY. 

self,  were  with  her ;  greatly  alarmed,  for  the 
hurt  was  directly  to  the  eye. 

Some  blood  ran,  and  a  little  jagged  torn  place 
showed  on  the  eyelid  ;  but  the  child  could  npt 
open  her  eye  and  the  pain  seemed  intolerable, 
though  she  was  controlling  herself  wonderfully. 

Their  physician  was  sent  for,  and  also  a  dis- 
tinguished oculist.  Madame  was  not  only 
really  grieved  but  she  could  not  bear  to  have  a 
child  under  her  care  made  blind,  or  disfigured. 
It  was  a  distressing  interval  while  they  waited 
the  physicians. 

What  did  our  Milly  do?  That  tenderly 
petted  child  who  had  "  no  discipline  "  —  who 
pined  because  she  could  not  see  her  mother 
every  day. 

She  was  the  most  quiet,  the  most  thoughtful 
of  the  whole. 

"  Lucie  mvrst  not  cry  so.  She  is  not  to  blame. 
She  stumbled,  and  fell  on  me.  She  couldn't 
help  it ; "  then  in  her  broken  French  she  tried 
to  comfort  the  sobbing  Lucy. 


"MISSMILLY."  113 

'•'  Your  mother  shall  come  to  you  at  once," 
said  Madame. 

"  No,"  cried  Milly.  "  She  must  not  be  fright- 
ened. Wait  until  the  doctor  says  if  I  am  to  be 
blind." 

And  she  would  not  rest  until  Madame  prom- 
ised she  would  not  send  —  she  would  wait  to 
hear  what  the  doctor  said. 

The  two  physicians  were  quickly  with  her. 
It  was  already  nightfall.  They  said  they  could 
not  decide  how  deep  the  injury  was  to  the  eye  — 
it  was  so  swollen  already  and  so  sensitive.  The 
best  they  could  do  was  to  keep  up  soothing 
applications  for  some  hours,  reduce  the  swell- 
ing, then  examine. 

The  child  was  perfectly  reasonable  and  trying 
to  be  quiet,  but  was  trembling  in  a  nervous  chill. 

"  Poor  baby,"  said  the  great  oculist,  "  pauvre 
chere  bebe  ;  send  for  her  mother  to  calm  her." 

"  No,  no,  no  ! "  begged  Milly.  "  Wait !  Oh  ! 
somebody  that  speaks  good  French  tell  him 
how  it  will  frighten  my  mother.  You  cannot 


H4 

know  until  morning  whether  I  will  be  blind  or 
not.  Wait !  I  can  wait.  I  will  mind  all  you 
tell  me  by  myself.  If  I  am  to  lose  my  eye 
mother  will  be  sorry  for  me  all  her  life.  Let 
her  be  happy  this  one  night  longer." 

There  were  no  dry  eyes  around  that  little 
sufferer.  Tenderly  the  oculist  explained  to 
her  that  her  head  must  be  as  little  moved  as 
possible ;  whatever  tear  or  strain  had  come 
would  be  made  worse  if  she  cried,  or  if  she 
tossed  her  head  in  pain.  She  would  have  to  be 
careful  for  herself,  for  no  one,  nothing,  could 
help  her  so  much  as  her  own  will ;  that  the  wet 
bandage  must  be  kept  fresh  all  night,  and  if  she 
did  not  cry,  and  could  keep  very  still  — 

"  I  can,  I  will,"  answered  the  soft  little  voice. 

"  Well,  then,  ma  petite,  if  you  can  really  be  so 
brave,  I  think  by  morning  I  can  do  my  part. 
And  we  will  believe,  until  we  have  to  give  up, 
that  the  eye  will  be  saved.  I  think  it  will.  And 
if  it  is,  you  will  have  done  the  largest  part." 

Then  came  the  soothing  drink  and  the  ar- 


"MISSMILLY."  115 

rangements  for  the  night ;  the  young  physician, 
his  assistant,  was  to  remain  all  night  and  over- 
look the  school-nurse  who  was  to  sit  by  her  and 
keep  up  the  wet  applications. 

"  But  Mademoiselle  Jeanne  must  sleep  all  to- 
morrow if  she  stays  up  all  night,"  she  said  to 
Madame,  who  granted  everything. 

And  then  quiet  fell  on  the  room  with  its 
shaded  light  and  wood  fire,  for  the  child  was 
chilled  by  pain  and  nervous  shock.  Madame, 
as  well  as  the  young  physician,  came  softly  in  at 
times.  Sometimes  Milly  was  dozing,  holding 
on  to  Jeanne's  hand ;  sometimes  her  soft  voice 
was  prattling  away  in  her  mixed  French  and 
English,  though  Jeanne  spoke  fairly  good  Eng- 
lish, and  they  heard  her  laughing  a  feverish 
nervous  little  laugh  as  she  told  Jeanne  how 
pleased  she  was  to  find  the  pictures  of  the  real 
live  Diana,  and  she  talked  of  her  baby  days 
when  she  always  went  to  sleep  in  her  grand- 
father's arms  while  he  told  her  beautiful  stories. 
"  It  feels  like  I  was  a  sleepy  baby  again,  Made- 


n6 

moiselle  Jeanne.  I  like  to  feel  your  hand  hold- 
ing me.  Could  you  tell  me  a  story  of  when 
you  were  little  ?  It  would  be  so  nice." 

And  Jeanne  told  her  a  story  which  was  more 
unreal  to  her  luxurious  life  encompassed  by 
love  and  care  than  any  fable  she  had  ever 
heard.  Gently  and  quietly  told,  of  always  work 
—  the  work  of  her  parents  —  then  sickness  and 
their  death  and  her  own  work  from  girlhood  on 
for  herself — no  home  but  what  she  earned  by 
her  work  ;  but  now  she  had  a  good  home  and 
Madame  was  very  kind  and  would  always  keep 
her,  "  for  "  (with  pride)  "  I  am  a  trained  and 
good  nurse,  and  there  are  always  sick  people. 
And  I  speak  and  can  read  English,  which  is 
verv  useful." 

In  that  night  of  threatened  blindness  the 
little  one's  eyes  were  opened  to  the  vast  world 
of  the  poor  and  lowly.  The  seed  fell  on  good 
ground. 

With  early  morning  came  the  great  doctor , 
the  assistant  held  her  head  and  the  examina- 


n7 

tion  showed  a  torn  upper  eyelid,  a  slight  tear  on 
the  under  eyelid  also,  into  the  cheek ;  but  the 
dear  lovely  eye  was  only  bruised  —  nothing 
deeper. 

There  was  thankfulness  in  every  heart. 

"Now,  I  want  to  see  my  mother — if  I 
may  ? " 

"  We  will  do  better,"  said  this  good  doctor. 
"  I  will  take  you  to  her  myself  and  make  her 
sure  you  will  be  free  from  pain  soon,  and  that 
there  will  be  no  disfigurement." 

And  so,  warmly  wrapped  and  in  good  Jeanne's 
arms,  they  drove  through  the  silent  early-morning 
streets  to  her  own  house  where  the  doctor,  warn- 
ing the  servants  to  make  no  sound,  himself  car- 
ried her  up  to  her  mamma,  who  was  just  dressed, 
and  never  dreaming  her  darling  was  so  near. 

"  Your  little  daughter  is  more  brave  than  your 
wife,"  the  doctor  said  to  her  father — the  poor 
young  mother  was  in  an  agony  of  grief  and  self- 
reproach  that  her  child  had  been  in  danger  and 
suffering  and  she  not  with  her. 


n8  "MISSMILLY." 

On  her  knees,  with  her  arms  around  the 
precious  little  one,  she  turned  to  them,  "  No,  I 
am  not  brave.  I  have  been  a  coward  to  give 
up  and  let  her  go  from  me.  Never,  never,  shall 
I  give  her  up  again  ;  how  could  I  be  so  cruel  to 
her!" 

And  they  were  not  separated  after  that. 
There  was  "  never  "  any  school,  but  governess 
and  teachers  and  home.  The  French  accent 
came  all  right  and  much  more  important  things 
also.  The  most  important  of  all,  the  loving 
faith  and  mutual  support  of  family  life  was  kept 
wonderfully  unbroken  by  these  two  as  long  as 
I  knew  them.  Some  inevitable  separations 
came,  but  they  ended  them  as  quickly  as 
possible.  I  know  that  the  war  and  many  sor- 
rows made  troubled  times  for  them  —  houses  and 
lands  and  comforts  were  lost  —  but  they  always 
had  each  other. 


VII. 
THE  TWO   WILLS. 

OUR  steamer  was  rolling  and  tossing  in  the 
Gulf  Stream,  and  a  rain  storm  added 
its  damp  misery.  The  healthy  passengers  even 
were  tired  down  by  continued  rough  weather 
since  leaving  New  York,  but  we  had  a  number 
of  invalids  on  board  for  Nassau  to  whom  it 
was  much  more  than  temporary  discomfort. 
They  took  it  each  after  their  nature ;  some  with 
sweet  resignation,  and  some  were  so  irritated 
as  almost  to  make  one  forget  their  sad  need 
of  forbearance. 

The  driest  place  was  a  little  glassed-in  cabin 

on  deck  —  it  was   an   old    and   small   steamer 

making  a  last  passenger  trip  before  going  off 

on  freight  work  only ;  its  wretched  deck  leaked 

119 


I2O  THE    TWO    WILLS. 

into  the  main  cabin  so  this  little  cuddy  above 
was  full  always,  the  sick  on  the  sofas  and  we 
well  people  as  we  could  seat  ourselves,  more  or 
less  well  —  chiefly  less  well.  One  passenger  — 
we  called  him  the  Giant  because  he  was  six- 
feet-three  and  wore  the  peaked  hood  of  his 
long  frieze  ulster  drawn  over  his  cap,  and 
seemed  quite  seven  feet  high  —  deliberately  sat 
upon  the  floor  which  brought  his  head  to  a  level 
with  ours.  He  was  one  of  our  near  friends  in 
New  York,  a  manly  sunny  nature,  and  a  great 
resource  to  us ;  though  he  was  to  go  on  to 
Havana  on  his  regular  winter  sugar  business  — 
there  was  not  room  enough  on  little  Nassau  for 
so  much  size  and  vitality. 

This  special  rainy  miserable  day  the  captain 
decided  to  practice  the  crew  at  "  Fire  drill." 
First  telling  the  ladies  and  invalids  that  it 
would  be  "only  a  drill,"  and  no  need  for  alarm. 

There  was  one  lad  of  about  sixteen  who  had 
distinguished  himself  by  always  lying  full-length 
on  the  longest  sofa  to  the  exclusion  of  two  real 


THE    TWO    WILLS.  121 

invalids,  gentle  lady-like  women,  a  mother  and 
daughter  who  looked  both  ill  and  in  grief. 
The  Giant  had  threatened  to  lift  the  youngster 
to  his  feet,  but  he  too  seemed  an  invalid,  though 
he  was  really  so  rude  and  sulky  you  could  not 
decide  if  it  was  only  seasickness  or  some  more 
lasting  form  of  illness ;  his  meals  were  brought 
up  to  him  and  he  was  exacting  and  capricious 
to  a  degree,  but  his  obsequious  English  attend- 
ant gave  in  Uriah-like,  to  every  whim. 

The  captain  had  told  this  Englishman  to 
warn  the  lad  of  the  drill,  but  as  the  boy  was 
sleeping,  and  active  nausea  overtook  his  attend- 
ant, it  chanced  the  warning  did  not  get  to  him. 
He  was  wildly  alarmed  at  the  rush  of  sailors 
hurrying  by  with  gleaming  axes,  the  hoarse 
orders  called  out,  the  calls  of  every  kind  —  for 
many  took  it  in  earnest;  it  was  a  clin  and  alarm 
upsetting  to  even  healthy  nerves. 

Though  he  was  quickly  told  by  us  that  it  was 
only  a  practice  fire-drill  yet  he  turned  angrily 
on  us  ladies :  "  This  is  an  outrage.  My  life  is 


122  THE    TWO    WILLS. 

valuable.  I  must  not  be  excited,"  as  though 
we  were  responsible. 

The  captain  was  really  troubled  that  this  had 
occurred ;  for,  as  he  told  us,  the  boy  was  right 
—  his  life  was  "valuable"  in  the  meaning  of 
property  to  his  family.  The  Giant  gathered  the 
story  and  told  it  to  us. 

When  Nassau  was  the  rendezvous  for  block- 
ade-runners during  our  war  great  chances  for 
quick  money-making  opened  up  to  the  islanders 
and  they  had  some  years  of  extravagant  pros- 
perity. One  shrewd  old  "  native "  merchant 
made  a  big  "war  fortune"  and  when  peace  put 
an  end  to  further  gains  of  importance  he  would 
not  return  to  the  once  keen  delight  in  wrecks 
but  gathered  his  riches  and  betook  himself  to 
London  as  the  only  place  now  suitable  for  him. 

Once  there,  he  found  uncomfortable  differ- 
ences between  himself  and  those  he  met,  and 
being  a  man  of  good  hard  sense  realized  his 
money  could  not  cover  the  lack  of  other  advan- 
tages. He  had  an  old  quarrel  with  his  only 


THE    TWO    WILLS.  123 

child,  but  now  he  adopted  her  son  as  his  heir  — 
driving  as  usual  a  hard  bargain  ;  the  boy  must 
live  with  him  in  London  and  be  entirely  his ; 
he  would  educate  him  suitably  for  his  fortune, 
but  he  must  drop  all  connection  with  his  family 
and  they  must  look  for  no  part  in  the  fortune. 

On  their  side  also  were  conditions  made. 
They  would  not  give  up  the  boy  until  he  was 
legally  adopted  as  the  heir,  to  be  suitably  pro- 
vided for  from  the  start,  and  to  inherit  at  the 
death  of  the  grandfather,  If  he  should  die 
before  the  grandfather  the  old  man  was  then 
free  to  make  other  disposal  of  his  money — but 
not  while  the  boy  lived. 

This  being  all  made  safe  the  child  —  for  he 
was  but  fourteen  then  —  was  sent  to  England, 
where  naturally  after  awhile  his  health  began 
to  give  out.  Anything  more  sweet,  more  even 
and  softly  warm  than  the  climate  of  Nassau 
from  October  to  May  cannot  well  be.  While 
English  damp  must  be  felt  to  be  realized;  "My 
sealskin  jacket  feels  no  warmer  than  one  of 


124  THE    TWO    WILLS. 

linen,"  I  have  heard  a  healthy  American  girl 
say  in  November  there.  And  a  young  stomach 
accustomed  to  the  light  food  and  much  fruit  of 
Nassau  was  not  fitted  for  the  change  to  a  solid 
diet  of  meat  and  ale.  Altogether  England  was 
too  much  for  the  boy,  and  now  he  had  to  be  sent 
back  for  awhile  to  his  native  air  to  gain  strength 
enough  to  return  and  be  fitted  out  for  that 
exacting  fortune.  On  the  Atlantic  crossing  he 
took  cold,  and  his  English  attendant,  a  sort  of 
nurse  and  tutor  combined  (for  he  was  not  to 
lose  time)  was  very  nervous  lest  he  should  be 
blamed.  The  boy  was  really  suffering,  but  also 
wonderfully  selfish  and  full  of  his  own  impor- 
tance while,  dimly,  he  began  to  feel  he  might 
be  in  danger. 

The  captain  knowing  Nassau  well  and  know- 
ing the  consequences  attached  to  the  boy's  life 
wished  to  "deliver  him  in  good  order"  to  his 
parents  who  were  watching  for  his  arrival ; 
anxious,  and  not  pleased  with  him  for  breaking 
down. 


THE    TWO    WILLS.  125 

It  was  really  a  bad  box  for  the  poor  fellow ; 
he  was  made  to  feel  on  all  sides  that  he  was 
not  wanted  for  himself  but  for  the  money 
depending  on  his  life. 

Really  though  it  was  hard  to  keep  our  com- 
passion free  from  annoyance  from  his  most 
disagreeable  ways,  and  we  were  not  sorry  to 
lose  sight  of  him  on  arriving.  And  yet  we  are 
all  so  curiously  drawn  into  an  invisible  net- 
work of  circumstance  that  this  boy  was  the 
active  cause  of  distressing  the  lives  of  two 
persons  he  never  saw  or  knew  of,  who  did  not 
know  each  other,  and  with  both  of  whose  dis- 
tress—  though  strangers  to  me  —  I  too  became 
closely  interwoven. 

It  is  not  a  long  passage  —  four  days  take  one 
from  the  cold  and  snow  of  New  York  past 
stormy  Hatteras  and  across  the  rough  waters  of 
the  Gulf  Stream  into  the  serene,  comforting 
mildness  and  warm  sunshine  of  the  little  island; 
an  island  lying  like  a  whale's  back  out  of  water, 
with  no  soil,  no  water,  no  chance  for  malaria  — 


126  THE    TWO    WILLS. 

just  a  hump  of  dry  coral  rock  with  lovely  blue 
sea  in  sight  on  three  sides  from  the  hotel,  which 
is  on  top  of  the  whale's  head.  The  English 
Government  built  this  fine  spacious  hotel  as  a 
health  resort  for  American  invalids  —  it  is  also 
their  own  health  station  for  their  army  and 
navy  in  the  West  Indies;  you  feel  the  solid 
English  Government  all  about  you  there ;  its 
good  influence  pervades  all  things  as  surely  as 
does  the  climate. 

Like  the  island  this  hotel  is  dry  and  free 
from  damp  because  it  too  is  of  coral  rock ;  this 
cuts  into  blocks  as  easily  as  chalk,  but  hardens 
in  the  air  and  makes  a  most  healthy  house. 
Around  the  hotel,  which  is  built  like  a  ship 
with  rounded  stern,  are,  on  each  story,  wide 
galleries  where  the  sun,  the  soft  trade-winds, 
and  even  temperature,  bring  healing  to  tired 
throats  and  torn  lungs. 

Nassau  is  a  mere  dot,  a  pin-head  spot  on  the 
map,  but  for  some  years  it  was  of  the  utmost 
value  and  necessity  during  the  war,  and  these 


THE    TWO    WILLS.  127 

wide  galleries  of  the  hotel  on  the  hill,  intended 
for  invalids,  were  then  continually  crowded  with 
eager  men  on  the  lookout  for  coming  blockade- 
runners.  And  when  these  were  chased  by  our 
vessels  the  excitement  grew  tremendous  as  first 
one  then  the  other  ship  seemed  gaining  —  not 
until  the  protecting  "  marine-league  "  limit  was 
reached  could  the  race  be  decided  —  then  yells 
and  English  cheers  and  cries  of  excited  joy 
from  the  blacks  rent  the  air ;  for  the  safety  of 
the  blockade-runner  meant  money  to  them  all, 
and  far  more  than  money  to  the  Southerners. 

"  Them  was  the  bountiful  days,  Mistiss,"  the 
dusky  head-chambermaid  lamented  to  me ; 
"them  was  the  days  when  gentlemen  threw 
their  money  around." 

Our  Consul  had  less  pleasing  things  to  tell 
of  those  "  bountiful  "  days. 

Now  the  hotel  was  not  crowded,  and  extreme 
quiet  reigned.  Invalids  stretched  on  steamer 
chairs  —  low  kind  voices  reading  aloud  to  them 
—  the  stifled  coughs  —  the  languid  movements 


128  THE    TWO    WILLS. 

of  those  walking  on  the  galleries  —  this  had 
replaced  the  full  life  of  men  roused  to  highest 
tension  by  war  and  gain. 

I  hold  Nassau  in  grateful  memory  as  the 
bridge  that  carried  us  safe  over  a  yawning  gulf 
of  anxiety,  but  I  would  never  again  take  an 
invalid  where  illness  and  not  health  made  the 
mental  atmosphere.  Where  there  is  no  getting 
away  from  the  sight  and  sound  of  illness  it  is 
hard  not  to  become  nervous  or  morbid. 

There  seemed  enough  of  this  at  the  hotel, 
but  even  here  we  did  not  escape  our  grumpy 
young  fellow-traveler.  He  was  with  his  own 
family,  of  course,  but  he  represented  the  great 
days  when  Fortune  smiled  on  Nassau  and  Nas- 
sau honored  him  as  its  own  special  invalid  and 
he  was  so  widely  discussed  that  he  became  a 
topic  of  morbid  interest  to  our  traveler-invalids. 

There  was  no  cable,  and  only  one  mail  in 
three  weeks  !  Fancy  our  intense  interest  when 
the  signal-flag  ran  up  at  Fort  Fincastle  to  report 
the  mail  steamer  sighted.  Sail  vessels  came  in 


THE    TWO    WILLS.  129 

between  times,  but  our  only  news  was  condensed 
into  this  once-in-three-weeks  mail.  Inevitably 
local  interests  grew  to  unnatural  proportions. 

The  passion  for  betting  is  perhaps  even 
stronger  with  the  English  than  with  Americans, 
and  bets  on  the  coming  news  were  the  favorite 
form  of  betting  in  this  lone  and  sea-girt  solitude. 

Young  Anthony  had  become  a  fixed  betting 
subject  —  he  and  his  grandfather  had  the  in- 
terest of  a  race  for  the  betters,  in  fact  of  the 
community  in  general. 

If  young  Anthony  lived  to  inherit,  his  delicate 
health  would  keep  him  in  Nassau  —  therefore 
his  money  would  remain  and  be  spent  there. 
And  if  he  should  die  soon  after  inheriting  he 
would  mos.t  probably  bequeath  to  his  father  and 
mother  and  they  would  keep  the  money  in  the 
island. 

But  if  the  elder  Anthony  outlived  the  boy 
the  money  was  lost  to  Nassau.  The  grand- 
father had  announced  this  —  there  were  old 
scores  to  pay  and  this  was  his  retaliation.  He 


130  THE    TWO  WILLS. 

too  had  long  suffered  from  the  transplanting  to 
the  cold  damp  climate  and  was  seriously  ill 
when  the  boy  sailed.  But  then  again  young 
Anthony  had  failed  rapidly  during  the  long  sea 
voyage.  Bets  were  many  and  (for  Nassau) 
heavy,  as  to  what  news  the  steamer  should 
bring  —  a  ghastly  kind  of  amusement,  but  so  it 
was,  "Nassau  against  London." 

The  first  steamer  told  the  grandfather  was 
much  weaker,  while  the  boy  was  decidedly 
revived. 

Then  began  a  race  for  life,  and  the  friends 
of  young  Anthony,  like  Mr.  Dombey's  sister 
who  urged  upon  the  dying  Fanny  to  "  make  an 
effort,"  urged  the  poor  boy  to  make  his  effort. 
One  sent  her  carriage  daily  —  another  sent  deli- 
cate food  —  and  "  Honeymoon  House  "  was 
taken  for  him,  and  in  spite  of  his  protests  he 
was  carried  there.  This  was  a  villa  by  the  sea, 
never  used  except  for  wedding  "tours" — there 
was  nowhere  to  travel  to  unless  you  took  to  the 
water,  and  this  pretty  place  a  little  out  of  town 


THE    TWO    WILLS.  131 

had  been  given  up  by  its  owner  to  bridal  couples 
and  so  got  its  name. 

At  Honeymoon  House  the  second  steamer 
found  the  boy  —  less  strong,  and  the  grand- 
father better.  Bets  began  to  vary  and  London 
was  ahead  of  Nassau.  Also  the  boy,  surly  and 
contrary  by  nature  and  capricious  now  from 
disease,  began  to  rebel  against  making  that 
"effort"  they  required  of  him.  He  was  re- 
ported to  have  said  if  they  didn't  let  him  alone 
he  would  die  to  spite  them  —  that  the  money 
was  no  good  to  him  any  way  —  he  knew  he 
could  not  live  long  any  way  and  all  they  wanted 
him  to  live  for  was  that  they  might  get  it  for 
themselves.  That  they  had  given  him  away 
for  that  money  and  now  he  was  dying  because 
they  had  sent  him  into  the  English  climate. 

When  we  were  told  of  this  bitter  feeling  of 
the  poor  lad  it  made  us  very  sorry  for  him  — 
there  was  so  much  truth  in  it.  He  showed  his 
grandfather's  shrewd  insight  in  going  to  the 
hard  facts  that  underlaid  his  illness  —  but  it 


132  THE    TWO    WILLS. 

was  too  sorrowful  that  he  should  have  lost  faith 
in  the  love  of  his  parents. 

We  had  to  keep  very  early  hours  —  it  was  the 
wise  rule  for  the  benefit  of  the  invalids;  but 
from  seven  to  nine  in  the  evenings  the  drawing 
room  gathered  many  pleasant  people  from  the 
outside  also.  The  billiard  room  was  a  large 
detached  building  in  the  grounds  of  the  hotel, 
and  on  its  verandas  and  under  the  huge  silk- 
cotton  tree  which  shaded  it,  met  citizens  and 
travelers  and  the  officers  of  the  garrison  and 
the  naval  officers  from  ships  in  port  —  the  bil- 
liard room  was  in  fact  the  club,  the  exchange 
for  news,  the  one  animated  place  in  the  placid, 
stagnant  island.  From  among  these  we  had 
our  regular  contingent  of  visitors. 

We  had  found  the  hotel  so  seriously  "invalid," 
that  after  one  evening  in  the  great  blank  draw- 
ing-room a  spirit  of  change  and  reform  seized 
us.  Nothing  is  more  discouraging  than  bare 
white  walls  and  lamps  with  staring  cold  white 


THE    TWO    WILLS.  133 

shades  —  one  feels  thrown  back  by  the  blank 
and  lack  of  cheerful  color.  We  got  the  aid  and 
consent  of  the  housekeeper  who  brought  out 
some  colored  table-covers  with  which  we  cov- 
ered the  large  round  table  and  some  smaller 
ones.  We  bought  at  the  confectioner's  sheets 
of  red  and  pink  and  white  and  yellow  tissue 
paper  and  made  of  them  finely-pleated  lamp- 
shades which  changed  to  warmth  the  tone  of 
the  walls  and  concentrated  bright  light  on  the 
tables.  The  piano  was  brought  out  from  the 
wall  and  its  long  harsh  outlines  softened  by  a 
great  Scotch  plaid  of  scarlet  and  brown,  while 
the  solid,  comfortable  ugly  hair-cloth  furniture 
no  longer  knew  itself  from  the  bright  Turkish 
towels  draped  on  backs  and  cushions.  Alto- 
gether it  became  a  cheery  bright  room.  Flowers 
and  work-baskets,  portfolios  of  sketches,  writ- 
ing-pads, magazines,  all  manner  of  domestic 
small  objects  gave  personal  effects,  while  the 
delighted  invalids  "caught  on  "  and  it  made  an 
object  in  their  empty  days  to  find  some  fresh 


134  THE  TWO  WILLS. 

idea  to  add  to  our  club  room.  Lovely  flowers 
were  gathered,  and  the  musical  resources  were 
called  out  and  combined.  We  found  we  had 
two  pianists  of  real  merit,  and  a  remarkable 
banjoist;  while  except  Santley  I  have  never 
heard  such  an  English  tenor  as  the  middle-aged 
English  officer  who  came  gladly  to  have  his 
accompaniments  played  and  to  practice.  Also 
there  was  an  artist  of  merit  who  showed  us  at 
night  the  sketches  in  oil  he  made  by  day.  It 
was  a  refreshing  pleasant  time  from  seven  to 
nine  —  then,  quiet  for  the  invalids.  We  really 
were  as  great  a  success  as  an  opera  troupe,  with 
the  advantages  of  visits  and  talking  added. 
The  nicest  people  came  to  visit  us  then. 

Among  our  most  constant  and  most  agreeable 
of  visitors  was  the  chief  surgeon  of  the  Post,  a 
man  who  had  won  high  distinction  and  promo- 
tion by  his  valuable  report  on  yellow  fever  in 
the  West  Indies,  and  his  noble  conduct  during 
an  unusually  pestilential  season  of  this  fever 
when,  after  all  their  troops  had  been  sent  else- 


THE   TWO   WILLS.  135 

where,  he  had  asked  permission  to  remain  and 
give  his  aid  to  the  natives.  Which  he  had  done 
thoroughly  —  remaining  until  the  pestilence  was 
over,  though  such  was  its  violence  that  the  very 
monkeys  fell  from  the  trees  in  marked  conditions 
of  the  fever. 

This  surgeon  felt  a  great  pity  for  young 
Anthony  and  gave  him  all  the  sympathy  and 
courage  he  could  infuse  into  him.  The  evening 
we  heard  of  the  boy's  revolt  against  any  more 
trying  there  came  up  a  most  interesting  talk  on 
the  influence  of  will  against  disease ;  and  from 
this  officer's  large  experience  he  gave  us  many 
evidences  where  he  had  seen  it  really  stay  its 
progress  —  even  avert  death. 

It  was  an  evening  of  talk  that  both  instructed 
and  elevated  ;  one  of  the  remembered  steps  in 
lifting  one  upwards  to  the  invisible  plane  of  the 
soul,  above  the  hampering  fetters  of  our  visible 
life ;  and  gave  courage  by  showing  how  much 
lay  within  the  power  of  one's  own  will. 

I  noticed  one  young   and   most   interesting 


136  THE    TWO    WILLS. 

invalid  from  Boston  listening  with  fascinated 
attention.  We  had  become  quite  friendly  al- 
ready and  I  was  not  surprised  when  she  came 
to  me  early  the  next  morning  "for  a  good  talk." 
"  I  want  you  to  stand  by  me  in  something  I 
am  going  to  do  —  you  will  understand,  my  aunt 
will  not.  When  I  saw  you  brushing  away  the 
mildew  from  our  lives  here,  I  felt  the  stir  of 
life  in  my  veins  again— you  have  made  this 
sad  place  less  sad — and  last  night  I  realized 
that  exhausted  as  I  am  I  can  yet  help  myself 
by  concentrating  all  my  will.  I  want  to  live  — 
I  ought  to  until  my  birthday.  It  is  only  six 
weeks  away  —  but  if  will  can  do  it  I  will  live 
till  then.  This  case  of  young  Anthony  is  so 
much  my  own.  I,  too,  must  reach  to  making 
my  will  and  I  must  go  off  to  save  myself.  I 
cannot  bear  hearing  about  him.  It  is  already 
more  than  I  can  do  to  keep  from  thinking  of 
my  own  need  to  live  beyond  a  fixed  date,  and  it 
makes  me  wild  to  know  of  this  boy  struggling 
up,  then  falling  back  —  if  he  dies  before  his 


THE    TWO    WILLS.  137 

grandfather  I  will  feel  it  is  my  fate  to  die  before 
I  can  make  my  will.  I  will  go  to  Havana  to 
get  rid  of  hearing  of  him,  for  I  must  —  I  will  — 
live  past  my  twenty-fifth  birthday. 

"Let  me  tell  you"  —  and  with  the  poor,  thin 
clammy  hands  held  fast  in  mine,  sure  of  tender 
sympathy,  she  told  me  her  story. 

Her  grandfather  had  large  estates  in  land 
and  forest.  He  had  only  two  children,  her 
mother  being  one.  When  she  was  very  young 
both  her  mother  and  father  died  and  she  was 
brought  up,  sternly,  without  cruelty  but  utterly 
without  love  or  indulgence,  by  her  uncle  who 
had  been  left  by  his  will  complete  manager  of 
all  the  grandfather's  property  until  she  should 
reach  twenty-five.  If  she  died  under  twenty- 
five  his  undivided  authority  was  to  continue  for  a 
fixed  number  of  years  longer.  Even  if  she  had 
married  and  had  children  she  could  not  alter 
this  condition  or  dispose  of  her  property  by 
will  until  she  reached  that  twenty-fifth  birthday. 

She  had  married,  she  had  two  little  children 


138  THE    TWO    WILLS. 

and  she  could  not  bear  to  leave  them  subject  to 
her  hard  cold  narrow  uncle,  but  wanted  their 
father,  and  his  mother,  "a  loving  hearted  sweet 
womanly  woman,"  to  bring  them  up  with  all  the 
advantages  her  wealth  ought  to  give.  "  They 
will  not  be  strong,"  she  said ;  "  my  mother  and 
my  father  both  died  from  consumption,  and  see 
me!  They  must  have  a  good  climate.  There 
is  plenty  of  money.  The  estates  have  been 
well  managed,  but  my  uncle  would  never  in- 
crease my  allowance.  It  is  his  interest  I  should 
die  under  twenty-five,  and  so  leave  everything 
in  his  hands.  Years  ago  I  begged  to  go  to 
Italy,  to  save  my  life"  (she  was  a  pupil  of 
Hunt's  and  painted  with  power  and  freedom), 
"but  he  laughed  at  me  and  said  my  own  im- 
prudence—  not  the  Boston  climate  —  was  to 
blame  —  that  I  was  safest  where  the  family 
could  look  after  me." 

Now,  hopelessly  broken  down,  she  had  been 
brought  by  two  of  her  husband's  family,  an 
aunt  and  her  husband,  away  from  the  Northern 


THE    TWO    WILLS.  139 

winter.  They  were  kind,  but  had  no  compre- 
hension of  her  nervous,  over-sensitive  nature 
now  become  morbid  from  mental  as  well  as 
physical  pain. 

"  They  honestly  mean  well  when  they  insist 
on  'regular  hours'  that  I  shall  drive,  or  lie 
down  at  fixed  hours,  and  eat  *  regularly '  of 
'  nourishing  food  '  when  I  loathe  it.  How  can 
I  be  regular  and  keep  a  routine  when  I  am  fly- 
ing to  pieces  ?  "  cried  the  poor  thing.  "  I  am 
nearly  wild  from  all  the  restraints  I  put  upon 
myself  already.  I  push  down  thoughts  and 
memories — but  baby  voices  call  me  and  all  the 
time  I  see  that  date  of  my  birthday  like  the 
writing  on  the  wall  —  it  is  my  doom. 

"  I  brought  my  painting  traps  with  me — the 
waving  cocoa-palms  against  the  tropic  sky  and 
ocean  fascinated  me;  I  felt  the  smell  of  the 
paints  hurt  me,  and  when  the  physician  said  so, 
I  gave  up  my  painting  too  —  packed  the  box 
and  screwed  down  its  lid.  Good-by  to  that  too! 

"  I  keep  only  one  joy.     I  write  in  a  journal- 


140  THE    TWO    WILLS. 

book  for  my  little  ones.  I  tell  them  why  I  left 
home  and  love  and  came  to  the  South  to  save 
my  life  long  enough  to  be  of  use  to  them  —  to 
secure  them  large  income  and  the  indulgences 
of  feeling  and  tastes  I  was  denied.  They  shall 
be  more  free  and  happy  than  their  mother  was 
allowed  to  be  —  and  all  through  the  book  I  put 
in  little  pictures  —  the  palms  by  the  sea  —  the 
patient  black  mothers  carrying  great  loads  of 
sugar-cane  on  their  heads  with  their  naked  little 
children  trotting  by  them  —  they  must  know  me 
though  I  will  never  know  them  except  as  fair 
little  babies  I  was  warned  not  to  kiss  because 
my  breath  might  carry  disease  —  then  I  came 
away.  I  will  do  them  no  ill,  but  I  must  live  to 
do  them  good. 

"  Now  comes  this  young  Anthony  to  trouble 
and  discourage  me. 

"  I  told  my  aunt  why  I  must  go  by  the  next 
steamer  to  Havana.  She  —  but  more  her  hus- 
band —  treats  that  as  a  feverish  fancy  and  tries 
to  soothe  me  as  one  might  a  child  scared  by  a 


THE   TWO    WILLS.  14! 

dream.  But  I  know  I  could  not  stand  his 
dying.  When  the  men  laugh  about  the  'Nas- 
sau-against-London  '  bets  I  could  scream  and 
call  out  '  Bet  on  me  ! ' 

"  And  that  boy  is  giving  way.  He  has  not 
motive  enough  to  resist.  He  cares  only  for 
himself.  Could  I  endure  this  loneliness,  this 
horrid  separation,  if  it  were  for  my  good  only  ? 
But  I  must  live  on,  for  six  weeks  more,  for  the 
children.  My  will  is  all  ready  for  me  to  sign 
the  day  I  am  twenty-five.  I  keep  it  close  by 
me.  After  that  I  can  die  in  peace.  Then  I 
may  go  to  my  dear  home  and  die  among  my 
own  people  —  not  in  a  hotel." 

Go  from  Nassau  they  did,  by  the  next 
steamer.  The  uncle  was  hard  to  overcome, 
but  it  would  have  been  cruel  to  force  her  to 
remain  with  that  fear  on  her,  and  fortunately 
both  the  boy  and  his  grandfather  were  living 
("  neck  and  neck,"  said  the  betters)  when  they 
got  off.  For  her  sake  this  was  a  real  comfort 
to  us.  The  excitement  of  carrying  her  point 


142  THE   TWO    WILLS. 

against  resistance  had  so  exhausted  her  that 
she  was  carried  on  board  on  a  litter. 

Our  Consul,  a  most  kind  and  considerate 
gentleman,  had  arranged  all  things  for  them 
with  the  steamer  and  remained  with  them  the 
short  time  before  it  put  to  sea  again,  as  did 
their  physician,  for  life  seemed  leaving  her. 

Because  the  Consul  was  not  in  his  office  these 
few  hours,  there  came  to  pass  the  second  "evil 
influence"  from  young  Anthony  of  which  I 
spoke.  But  that  is  for  another  story. 

The  end  of  this  one  is  that  before  the  Boston 
lady  had  been  gone  a  week  young  Anthony's 
case  took  a  bad  downward  turn.  Either  he 
had  not  much  power  to  resist  disease  or  he  had 
not  the  will,  the  nerve,  to  do  so,  but  any  way  he 
died  within  that  week.  Then  local  interest 
fastened  on  the  possibilities  of  the  grandfather 
having  died  before  him. 

But  no.  He  outlived  the  grandson,  and 
made  good  his  threat  —  Nassau  lost  the  fortune. 

From   Havana,  then   Florida,   we  had   good 


THE    TWO    WILLS.  143 

news  of  the  reviving  effects  of  changed  scenes 
and  thoughts  on  the  Boston  lady.  And  from  a 
loving  friend  who  joined  her  in  Florida  I  learned 
of  the  birthday  reached  —  the  will  signed  —  and 
the  great  peace  that  came  to  the  invalid  then ; 
for  with  the  hard  fight  won  all  restlessness  fell 
from  her.  She  was  taken  home  and  had  her 
yearning  wish  gratified.  -"Among  her  own  peo- 
ple," for  whom  she  had  secured  a  happier  life 
than  was  given  her,  the  end  came. 


VIII. 
THE   HAT  OF  THE   POSTMASTER. 

THIS  is  not  an  Ollendorf  sentence,  or  a 
joke,  but  a  real  and  very  serious  trouble 
that  came  from  an  accidental  shot  into  the  hat 
of  the  Nassau  Postmaster,  who  was  also  "HER 
MAJESTY'S  "  Postmaster. 

When  you  have  said  "  Her  Majesty "  in 
Nassau  the  thing  becomes  too  serious  for  com- 
mon explaining;  only  the  majesty  of  the  law 
could  suitably  meet  the  offense  to  this  (very  far 
off  and  very  insignificant)  representative  of 
royalty.  The  good  Queen  herself  would  be 
amused  by  it ;  but  to  an  American  it  is  some- 
thing incredible  until  seen  —  this  prostration  of 
mind  before  the  idea  of  royalty. 

The  Postmaster  of  this  small  town  on  a  pin- 
144 


THE    HAT    OF    THE    POSTMASTER.  145 

head  island  thousands  of  miles  from  England 
felt  himself  aggrieved  beyond  personal  explana- 
tions because  while  taking  his  customary  walk 
before  dinner  a  pistol  ball  went  through  his  high 
hat.  That  it  was  manifestly  an  accident  did  not 
appease  him.  He  was  walking  along  the  road 
which  bordered  the  long  frontage  of  the  harbor 
where  vessels  lay  discharging  cargo,  their  decks 
on  a  level  with  the  white  coral-rock  road ;  on 
one  side  the  sea,  on  the  other  the  low  coral- 
rock  houses  —  just  here  stores  and  storehouses 
and,  on  an  open  space,  a  great  lot  of  railway 
iron  which  had  arrived  after  the  end  of  the 
war,  and  was  now  only  a  huge  pile  of  warped 
and  rusted  iron. 

As  the  Postmaster  passed  this  place  he  felt 
his  hat  struck  from  the  land  side,  and  taking  it 
off  saw  a  bullet  had  torn  through  it.  As  he 
was  rather  deaf  he  had  heard  nothing.  How- 
ever he  saw  a  colored  man  just  behind  him 
running  swiftly  up  the  cross  street  into  the 
town.  And  on  the  deck  of  the  schooner  along- 


146  THE    HAT    OF    THE    POSTMASTER. 

side  the  road  stood  a  white  man,  pistol  in 
hand. 

Of  course  the  sound  of  the  shot  brought  out 
every  one  within  hearing,  and  the  man  on  the 
schooner — its  first  mate  —  told  them  he  had 
found  a  man  in  his  cabin  below  taking  down 
his  Sunday  hat ;  the  man,  a  young  mulatto,  ran 
so  quickly  he  could  not  catch  him  as  he  made 
off  with  the  hat,  but  he  recognized  the  same 
young  man  who  had  been  prowling  about  and 
annoying  him  all  day.  Not  stopping  to  see 
what  else  was  gone,  and  only  meaning  to  scare 
the  thief,  he  had  fired  —  not  after  him  as  he 
ran  up  the  cross  street,  but  into  the  pile  of  old 
iron  ;  the  ball  had  rebounded,  struck  the  side 
of  the  nearest  house,  and  thence  hit  the  hat  of 
the  Postmaster. 

This  was  so  reasonable,  and  proved  itself  so 
clearly,  that  it  ought  to  have  been  enough.  The 
offense  of  firing  within  town-limits  should  have 
been  met  by  a  fine  only,  and  the  provocation 
considered  and  allowed  for.  Because  it  was 


THE    HAT    OF    THE    POSTMASTER.  147 

well-known,  as  the  mate  said,  that  these  wharf- 
thieves  made  work  troublesome  for  vessels,  and 
that  if  they  ran  off  with  any  plunder  "  no  one 
had  seen  them."  So  he  fired  to  show  he  would 
be  police  for  himself. 

The  law  allowed  fine  or  imprisonment  for 
this  offense. 

Had  the  Consul  been  on  shore  it  would  have 
ended  in  a  fine ;  but  he  was  on  the  steamer 
seeing  to  the  dying  Boston  lady.  Steamers 
could  not  come  in  close,  and  it  was  a  work  of 
time  to  get  out  to  them  ;  so  in  the  few  hours 
he  was  away  the  mate  was  carried  before  a  jus- 
tice, the  Postmaster  turning  literally  a  deaf  ear 
to  reason,  and  stopping  at  his  accusation  of  "  a 
ball  fired  through  his  hat,"  as  witness  the  torn 
hat !  —  and  there  was  a  crowd  of  colored  people 
insisting  against  the  enormity  of  a  white  man 
shooting  at  "  a  poor  colored  boy  who  was  just 
looking  about  on  the  schooner." 

It  would  not  have  gone  so  hard  against  the 
mate  but  for  the  bad  conduct  of  his  captain 


148  THE    HAT   OF    THE    POSTMASTER. 

who  had  been  absent  in  the  town,  and  who  at 
once  made  sail  and  deserted  his  mate  —  thus 
depriving  him  of  his  witnesses.  This  unusual 
bad  conduct  came  as  most  crimes  come,  from 
drink.  The  mate  was  a  man  of  middle  age,  a 
thoroughly  reliable  seaman  used  to  sailing  his 
own  smaller  vessel  to  the  West  Indies.  The 
captain  was  a  very  young  man,  brother-in-law 
to  the  owner  of  this  fine  schooner.  The  owner 

felt  his  vessel    safe  in   charge  of   Mr.  H 

whom  he  persuaded  to  take  the  place  of  first 
mate  and  also  asked  him  to  keep  watch  over 
the  young  captain,  to  whom  was  given  this 

chance  to  reform  and  do    better  as  a  favor  to 

• 

his  wife's  family.  The  young  captain  had  re- 
sented Mr.  H 's  authority  on  board,  and  at 

once  on  reaching  Nassau  came  ashore  and  be- 
gan to  drink.  When  he  was  called  into  court  he 
saw  his  opportunity  to  get  rid  of  a  troublesome 
guardian  ;  he  said  his  making  sail  immediately 
was  to  prevent  the  cargo  being  spoiled  by  long 
detention ;  any  way  he  sailed  that  evening  and 


THE    HAT    OF    THE    POSTMASTER.  149 

left  Mr.   H without  witnesses  or  friendly 

support. 

When  the  Consul  returned  he  was  informed 

of  all  this ;  but  Mr.  H was  already  in 

prison  and  the  schooner  gone. 

Our  Consul  was  an  American  and  a  gentle- 
man. Not  only  very  intelligent  and  unusually 
kind-hearted,  but  he  was  thoroughly  patriotic ; 
long  residence  in  Nassau  made  him  know  its 
peculiarities  of  prejudice  and  local  feeling.  He 
knew  this  case  had  been  rushed  through  and 
advantage  taken  of  his  brief  absence  to  gratify 
the  underlying  anger  of  the  majority  of  the 
Island  people  against  our  flag ;  the  flag  that 
to  them  meant  the  stopping  of  the  prosperous 
times  of  the  war  and  the  blockade-running. 
Logically,  they  should  have  felt  warmly  towards 
that  flag,  for  Nassau  has  eleven  colored  to 
each  white  inhabitant ;  but  it  was  self-interest, 
not  the  interest  of  their  race,  which  influenced 
them. 

Also  the  race-feeling  made  them  pleased  to 


150  THE    HAT   OF    THE    POSTMASTER. 

punish  a  white  man  for  shooting  at  one  of  their 
color,  though  they  knew  it  was  only  intended 
to  frighten  the  man,  and  they  knew  he  was  a 
bad  character  who  was  often  in  the  chain-gang 
for  theft  and  for  drinking. 

Our  Consul  was  sorely  troubled.  He  had  im- 
mediately made  his  protest,  had  declared  to 
the  authorities  that  the  mate  should  not  be  put 
in  the  chain-gang  in  the  morning,  but  should 
have  a  jury  trial  —  had  written  to  the  prisoner 
to  that  effect  and  sent  him  a  good  dinner  and 
provided  that  all  his  meals  should  come  to  him 
from  the  outside,  and  that  every  prison  hard- 
ship and  indignity  should  be  kept  off  until  he 
could  see  the  proper  persons  and  secure  legal 
efforts  for  his  liberty.  Early  the  next  morning 
he  went  to  the  prison  and  saw  Mr.  H . 

We  sat  at  the  Consul's  table,  and  this  became 
our  case  nationally  and  personally,  on  the  good 

report  the  Consul  made  after  seeing  Mr.  H . 

He  was  from  Maine,  one  of  the  best  examples 
of  the  fine  sea-going  men  of  that  coast.  He 


THE    HAT   OF    THE    POSTMASTER.  151 

was  a  Mason  in  good  standing.  And  he  had 
volunteered  and  served  in  our  Navy  during  the 
whole  of  the  war  —  that  was  enough  for  me. 

The  Consul  found  opposing  him  exactly  the 
prejudices  and  obstacles  he  had  foreseen.  The 
sailing  away  of  the  schooner  was  also  a  hard 
fact  against  the  prisoner,  except  as  he  explained 
it  to  the  Consul. 

When  our  government  was  framed  it  was 
morbid  against  "  authority  "  and  dreaded  giving 
power  into  any  hands.  We  were  a  far-off  and 
scantily-peopled  country,  isolated  by  distance 
and  with  the  idea  of  self-dependence  governing 
us  nationally.  Steam  ended  that  by  bringing 
us  in  close  contact  with  other  lands  and  crowd- 
ing us  with  foreign  peoples.  And  now  that  we 
are  interwoven  with  the  world's  commerce,  we 
have  changed  but  little  of  the  original  narrow 
and  bitterly-prejudiced  ways  of  handling  our 
outlying  interests.  They  are  inadequate  and 
stingy  in  our  foreign  relations.  Our  Consuls 
(generally)  are  considered  unimportant  and  are 


152  THE    HAT   OF    THE    POSTMASTER. 

often  foreigners  who  do  not  understand  us 
nationally,  and  when  they  do,  they  have  none 
of  that  solid  support  England  gives  her  repre- 
sentatives. All  manner  of  extra  expenses  for 
shipwrecked  or  as  now,  imprisoned  sailors  fall 
on  the  Consul's  own  pocket.  He  may  be  repaid 
by  the  State  Department  —  that  depends  on  a 
set  of  officials  whose  pride  is  in  small  accounts 
not  just  accounts.  If  his  account  does  not  pass 
this  tribunal,  he  may  appeal  to  Congress —  and 
he  may  grow  gray  waiting  for  its  attention.  If 
he  has  political  influence  he  may  be  repaid  on 
demand.  It  is  all  shamefully  uncertain  and  un- 
fair and  throws  decisions  like  this  case  I  tell  of 
directly  on  the  good  feeling,  the  sense  of  national 
honor  and  the  willingness  to  pait  indefinitely 
with  his  own  money,  of  the  Consul. 

Ours  rose  to  what  ought  to  be  the  national 
level.  He  secured  the  good  food  and  room  and 
freedom  from  small  indignities  which  made  the 
prisoner's  lot  less  hard ;  but  notwithstanding, 
the  hard  fact  remained  that  a  fine,  upright,  tern- 


THE    HAT    OF    THE    POSTMASTER.  153 

perate  man,  a  first-class  seaman,  and  one  who 
had  done  good  service  during  our  war,  rising  to 
the  rank  of  ensign  in  our  Navy,  was  in  prison 
waiting  trial  on  an  inadequate  charge,  and  there 
was  only  the  accident  of  personal  feeling  to 
prevent  his  being  in  the  chain-gang  with  every 
low  criminal. 

Gentlemen  from  the  hotel  went  with  the  Con- 
sul to  see  Mr.  H .  He  was  fully  assured 

of  the  indignant  sympathy  of  his  countrymen 
and  countrywomen  too.  It  was  thought  wisest 
not  to  increase  and  harden  the  opposition  by  a 
display  of  indignation,  or  ladies  would  have  taken 
to  him  in  person,  in  his  prison,  the  books,  the 
newspapers,  the  magazines  and  the  fresh  flowers 
and  fruits  with  which  they  kept  him  supplied. 

It  would  be  six  weeks  before  his  trial  could 
come  off,  the  season  was  ending,  and  the  hotel 
about  to  close  ;  then  only  the  Consul  would  re- 
main to  represent  his  American  friends.  These 
had  secured  for  him  the  best  lawyer  of  Nassau, 
for  public  feeling,  even  among  upper-class 


154  THE    HAT   OF    THE    POSTMASTER. 

officials,  was  in  favor  of  "  making  an  example  " 

of  Mr.  H . 

At  a  farewell  dinner  from  the  Bishop  we  met 
the  chief  people  of  the  town,  and  though  I  tried 
to  avoid  this  topic  of  discord,  it  was  brought 
forward  by  the  Chief  Justice  himself,  who 

rather  sneeringly  called  Mr.  H my  prisoner. 

At  first  I  treated  it  laughingly  —  any  seriousness 
would  have  been  too  ill-bred  at  a  dinner-party  ; 
so  I  accepted  "  my "  prisoner  and  said  yes,  I 
was  deeply  interested  to  have  him  acquitted,  for 
it  was  above  personal  consideration  —  it  was 
national  —  the  reputation  of  our  national  marks- 
manship was  to  be  tried ;  that  if  H had 

fired  to  hit  the  man  running  away  he  deserved 
the  extremest  sentence  for  not  shooting  him  — 
we  could  not  have  any  sympathy  for  such  a 
poor  marksman ;  that  an  American  who  had 
served  during  all  of  our  war,  who  was  healthy 
and  temperate,  and  was  using  an  American 
revolver  should  miss  his  mark,  was  a  national 
reproach  and  his  fate  be  on  his  own  head. 


THE    HAT    OF    THE    POSTMASTER.  155 

So  we  were  bound  to  prove  Mr.  H did 

not  fire  at  the  man  ;  but  quite  away  from  him 
to  give  him,  and  others,  a  good  scare  ;  that  all 
the  evidence  showed  that  while  the  man  was 
running  away  due  east  the  shot  had  struck  a 
house  northeast  from  the  schooner,  and  that  we 
Americans  were  too  conceited  over  our  national 
reputation  as  good  shots  as  to  admit  such  a  wide 
stray  as  that  from  a  mark. 

I  was  jesting  and  laughing,  but  inwardly  very 
angry,  feeling  this  barrier  of  local  ill-will  threat- 
ening justice.  Our  charming  hostess  let  me 
make  a  diagram  with  forks  and  spoons  for 
streets  and  wharf,  and  crusts  of  bread  for  the 
schooner  and  pile  of  iron  and  house  struck  by 
the  ball.  (See  diagram.) 

Even  the  sarcastic  Chief  Justice  could  not  but 
give  in  to  the  convincing  diagram ;  it  proved 
there  was  no  intention  to  hit  the  man,  only  to 
give  notice,  and  but  for  the  ball  rebounding, 
glancing  upward  and  thence  striking  the  Post- 
master's hat,  there  would  have  been  no  fuss 


156  THE    HAT    OF    THE    POSTMASTER. 

about  it ;  for  the  young  man  feared  the  chain- 
gang  again  and  his  anxiety  was  to  get  off 
undetected. 

Then  the  Chief  Justice  rather  lost  his  temper 
and  said  some  disagreeable  things  —  in  a  polite 
way  to  be  sure  —  which  I  would  not  take  up, 
but  in  my  mind  I  determined  if  it  was  to  be 
Nassau  feeling  against  American  feeling,  Amer- 
ican feeling  should  win. 

The  Governor  and  his  wife  had  been  alto- 
gether charming  to  us.  Every  day  the  scarlet 
and  white  uniformed  orderly  from  Government 
House  brought  fruit  or  flowers  or  books,  with 
often  a  note  to  say  they  would  call  for  me  to 
join  their  afternoon  drive,  or  to  take  tea,  or 
for  a  sail,  and  we  had  become  friendly  and 
intimate. 

After  this  dinner  party  I  went  to  the  Gover- 
nor and  told  him  I  feared  prejudice  would  tell 
heavily  against  Mr.  H .  That  I  had  re- 
frained from  going  to  visit  him  in  prison  because 
the  Consul  thought  it  best  to  make  no  display 


THE    DINNER-TABLE    DIAGRAM. 

(i),  the  schooner  ;  (2),  the  pile  of  iron ;  (3),  the  house  on  -which  the  ball 
rebounded;  (4),  the  man  running  away  ;  (/.  m.},  the  postmaster. 


THE    HAT   OF    THE    POSTMASTER,  159 

of  "  taking  sides  "  ;  but  as  I  was  leaving  on 
Monday,  I  wished  to  see  him  and  cheer  him, 
and  to  be  able  to  speak  for  him,  direct,  to  any 
New  York  friends  who  might  be  useful.  Un- 
less it  seemed  this  would  injure  the  prisoner's 
cause  I  wanted  the  necessary  permit  from  the 
Governor. 

He  thought  as  I  did,  that  it  was  right  for  me 
to  see  the  prisoner ;  "  and  as  for  its  being  any 
injury  to  him  I  will  see  about  that." 

Sunday  he  thought  the  best  time,  as  there 
would  then  be  no  prisoners  around.  We  ar- 
ranged that  I  should  take  a  good-by  afternoon 

tea  with  Lady  H on  Sunday,  and  find  my 

special  permit  ready. 

After  tea  the  Governor  took  me,  not  to  my 
carriage,  which  he  had  sent  away,  but  to  his 
own  open  carriage,  and  the  scarlet-uniformed 
orderly  mounted  the  box  by  the  coachman.  As 
we  drove  through  the  streets  to  the  prison  every 
one  we  met  stopped,  turned  to  face  the  Gover- 
nor and  lifted  the  hat,  if  a  man,  or  bent  the 


l6o  THE    HAT   OF    THE    POSTMASTER. 

head  if  a  woman.  This  salute  to  the  represent- 
ative of  the  Queen  came  easily  and  willingly 
and  seemed  to  me  a  graceful  tribute  to  her  as 
a  woman  and  sovereign. 

All  was  silent  around  the  high  prison  walls  — 
the  sentry  saluted,  and  the  great  gates  swung 
open  into  an  empty  inclosure.  The  Director 
of  the  prison  was  waiting,  head  bared,  and 
bowing,  and  we  were  shown  into  the  long  cool 
entrance  hall  of  the  prison  and  thence  into  the 
private  room  of  the  Director. 

After  a  few  polite  words  on  the  cool  freshness 
of  the  building,  the  Governor  asked  Mr.  Craw- 
ford to  have  "  the  American  prisoner  "  brought 
into  his  room  to  see  me.  (By  the  rules  I 
should  have  gone  to  the  prisoner's  cell.)  While 
Mr.  Crawford  himself  went  to  see  to  this  the 
Governor  said  to  me  in  a  low  voice  :  "  I  have  a 
privilege  I  value  and  have  pleasure  in  using 
when  needed  —  I  can  set  aside  the  finding  of  a 
court  and  grant  a  pardon.  I  will  do  this  in  case 
your  fears  prove  well-founded.  I  hope  for  jus- 


THE    HAT   OF    THE    POSTMASTER.  l6l 

tice  however.  And  my  coming  here  with  you  is 
sufficient  expression  of  my  view  of  the  prison- 
er's case.  But  in  case  the  suit  goes  against  him 

I  wish  you  now  to  repeat  to  Mr.  H what  I 

have  said,  and  to  tell  him  that  I  will  set  him 
free.  That  will  give  him  courage  for  all  he  has 
yet  to  meet." 

Neither  of  us  had  yet  seen  Mr.  H .  He 

came  in  now,  walking  beside  Mr.  Crawford,  pale 
from  confinement,  but  with  a  clear-eyed  look  of 
quiet  pride  and  self-respect  that  propitiated  the 
Governor  at  once. 

He  said,  "You  will  want  to  talk  freely  with 
Mrs.  Fremont  — it  is  against  rules  for  a  prisoner 
to  be  alone  with  a  visitor ;  but  I  will  walk  with 
Mr.  Crawford  up  and  down  in  front  of  the  door 
while  you  give  your  messages  for  home." 

So  I  had  my  free  talk  with  "  my  prisoner," 
and  lost  no  time  in  giving  him  the  Governor's 
delightful  message.  Also  I  had  brought  to  keep 
him  company  in  his  prison  a  photograph  of  a 
handsome  happy  lad  in  his  ensign's  uniform. 


1 62  THE    HAT   OF    THE    POSTMASTER. 

"  I  have  worn  that  uniform,"  said  the  prisoner, 
with  tears  forcing  themselves  to  his  well-con- 
trolled New  England  blue  eyes.  "  I  served 
nearly  the  whole  four  years  and  earned  that 
uniform  step  by  step  —  and  now  !  " 

"  Take  heart,"  I  said  ;  "  it  is  not  for  long 
now  and  you  are  sure  of  freedom.  Then  you 
will  bring  me  back  this  comrade." 

He  gave  me  the  names  of  some  good  friends, 
shipping  merchants  of  New  York  ;  and  specially 
begged  I  would  write  to  his  wife. 

"  She  may  think  I'm  disgraced  because  I  am 
in  prison,  but  you  can  make  her  see  it  is  not 
the  same  as  being  in  prison  at  home." 

Our  time  was  up.  It  was  with  a  lighter  heart 

Mr.  H said  good-by  and  returned  to  be 

locked  into  his  room,  for  now  a  certainty  of  free- 
dom was  with  him  ;  and  from  its  frame  of 
violet  velvet  and  silver  looked  out  the  bright 
young  face  in  that  naval  dress  he  had  earned 
by  service  to  his  country.  He  no  longer  could 
feel  alone  or  discouraged. 


THE    HAT    OF    THE    POSTMASTER.  163 

The  Governor  made  his  cordial  good-by,  and 
we  returned  to  polite  but  wondering  looks,  and 
many  comments  were  made  to  me,  but  not  even 
to  our  kind  Consul  could  I  tell  the  Governor's 
comforting  assurance. 

We  sailed  the  next  day,  and  for  three  weeks 
there  could  be  no  news  from  Nassau.  Then  it 

was  brought  by  Mr.  H himself  —  a  happy 

man.  He  had  seen  and  recognized  in  the  Hud- 
son River  depot  the  original  of  the  photograph 
he  was  bringing  back  to  me,  and  it  introduced 
him,  and  that  young  Webfoot  brought  him  out  to 
our  country  house. 

What  a  good  report  he  had  to  make  !  The 
trial  had  ended  so  clearly  in  his  favor  that  the  ver- 
dict of  "  Not  Guilty  "  was  cheered  and  cheered 
again  and  he  was  carried  from  the  court  room 
on  the  shoulders  of  the  crowd  ("  I  never  felt  so 
foolish  in  my  life,"  he  said).  They  had  been 
ready  to  mob  at  first.  During  the  interval  he 
was  in  prison  the  pilferer  had  added  more 
offenses,  for  which  he  was  now  working  under 


164  THE   HAT    OF    THE    POSTMASTER. 

the  hot  summer  sun  in  the  dreaded  chain-gang. 
To  the  hue  and  cry  that  he  tried  to  kill  a  man 

because  he  was  colored,  H had  made  the 

practical  denial  of  refusing  a  white  jury  when 
it  was  offered  him.  He  said  he  would  as  soon 
trust  respectable  colored  men,  so  it  was  made 
a  mixed  jury.  The  Postmaster  had  become 
ashamed  of  himself  and  withdrew  his  charge. 

When  he  reached  New  York  the  Front  Street 
shipping  merchants  took  up  his  case  and  he 
was  offered  the  command  of  more  than  one  fine 
sailing  vessel. 

The  young  captain  who  deserted  him  had  made 
a  bad  muddle  of  the  business,  and  the  owners 

now  wanted  Mr.  H to  command  her — but 

they  had  turned  the  cold  shoulder  to  him  when 
in  trouble  and  he  rightly  would  have  no  more 
to  do  with  them. 

Some  Front  Street  shipping-houses  sent  me 
a  letter  I  valued  very  much  ;  of  thanks  for  my 
interest  in  a  sailor  needing  help,  and  saying  if 
more  ladies  traveling  abroad  took  the  same 


THE    HAT    OF    THE    POSTMASTER.  165 

pride  in  the  flag  our  mercantile  marine  would 
feel  more  encouraged. 

Altogether  this  story  of  a  syndicate-of-will 
ends  properly  ;  the  bad  man  was  punished  and 
the  good  man  rewarded.  He  even  found  wait- 
ing him  the  right  kind  of  a  letter  from  his  wife. 
And  I  had  the  satisfaction  I  have  often  felt  in 
finding  that  if  you  only  go  about  it  in  earnest 
you  can  stir  up  more  than  enough  good  to 
counteract  the  bad. 

We  went  down  together  the  next  morning. 
At  the  end  of  the  long  platform  of  the  Forty- 
second  Street  depot  is  a  great  box  with  a  sign 
upon  it.  Mr.  H saw  the  passengers  drop- 
ping into  this  box  their  morning  paper,  or  novel, 
or  magazine,  and  stopped  to  read  the  notice  : 
"  For  the  Hospitals  and  Prisons."  I  told  him 
of  the  Flower  and  Fruit  Missions  also. 

"  There's  something  I  can  do  for  them,"  he 
said.  "  I  have  been  sick  and  in  prison  and 
visited  by  kindness  —  I  know  how  it  is.  I  will 
speak  to  my  friends  in  the  fruit  trade  and  see 


l66  THE    HAT   OF    THE    POSTMASTER. 

that  the  hospitals  and  prisons  get  their  share  of 
fruit  —  there's  lots  of  it  won't  keep  and  they 
can  never  put  it  to  better  use." 

And  there  is  more  good  yet.  The  Governor 
and  his  sweet  wife  made  us  a  visit  on  their  way 
home  to  England.  He  told  us  he  had  opened 
with  our  State  Department  favorable  negotia- 
tions for  some  form  of  Marine  Court  which 
would  protect  sailors  in  the  Bahamas  from  such 
bad  chances  as  "  my  prisoner "  had  had  to 
encounter. 

Also  the  Consul's  outlays  were  repaid  by  Gov- 
ernment. But  he  had  warm  and  strong  friends 
at  court  —  where  justice  (like  kissing)  "goes  by 
favor." 


IX. 

THE  GOOD  SAMARITAN. 

Good  Samaritan  still  lives.  Every- 
where  there  are  men  to  whom  the  call 
of  the  helpless  is  more  imperative  than  the 
call  of  self. 

Such  a  man  was  hurrying  to  his  train  intent 
on  a  business  appointment,  when  his  attention 
was  caught  by  the  look  of  distress  and  the 
strange  manner  of  another  passenger  in  the 
street  car,  a  fine-looking  man  still  young,  well- 
dressed,  and  evidently  trying  hard  for  self- 
control.  As  they  neared  the  station  and  others 
were  making  ready  to  get  out,  a  gesture  of  despair 
came  from  this  young  man  as  he  tried,  in  vain, 
to  rise.  The  rest  hurried  past,  but  the  Good 
Samaritan  could  not  desert  him.  "  Can  I  help 

167 


l68  THE    GOOD    SAMARITAN. 

you  ? "  he  asked  ;  but  in  the  struggle  to  answer, 
in  the  confused  stammer,  he  saw  the  young  man 
was  dangerously  ill. 

The  Good  Samaritan  had  a  head  as  clear  and 
true  as  his  good  heart  —  I  think  the  two  go  to- 
gether ;  quickly  he  asked :  "  What  is  your  name  ? 
Where  do  you  live  ?  " 

"Will,  Will-am";  then  the  poor  faltering 
tongue  could  articulate  no  more. 

"Who  do  you  knovv  here?  I  will  take  you 
there." 

Some  stammering  sounds  led  the  quick  mind 
to  a  well-known  name,  then  faintness  came  on  ; 
the  insensible  man  was  put  into  a  carriage  and 
driven  back  into  the  city  to  a  great  business 
house,  where  at  first  no  one  recognized  him.  The 
water  applied  to  head  and  breast  to  revive  him 
had  disordered  hair  and  dress,  and  the  face  was 
pai nf ully  distorted.  Then  one  brother  exclaimed : 

"  Can  this  be  Will  S !  He  was  with  us  all 

the  morning  —  perfectly  well.  We  have  known 
him  always." 


THE    GOOD    SAMARITAN.  169 

"  He  said  his  name  was  *  Will,'  but  could  get 
no  farther,  and  he  could  only  give  the  first  half 
of  your  name." 

These  brothers  were  Quakers,  and  again  this 
helpless  sufferer  had  fallen  among  good  men. 
Their  own  physician  confirmed  the  fear  that  it 
was  a  stroke  of  paralysis.  They  knew  that  the 
patient  was  a  man  of  upright  habits,  of  unusual 
energy  in  business,  and  that  he  had  the  great 
inheritance  of  good  health  and  good  character, 
for  their  house  had  had  regular  business  deal- 
ings with  his  grandfather  and  his  father  as  well 
as  with  himself.  So  they  knew  this  paralysis 
could  not  be  due  to  any  wrong  doing  of  poor 
Will  S himself. 

They  had  him  carried  to  their  own  town-house 
and  cared  for  as  one  of  themselves.  It  was  the 
hot  summer-time  and  the  family  at  the  seaside, 
but  as  his  illness  forbid  any  moving  for  many 
weeks  they  telegraphed  Will's  family  to  come  to 
him,  and  stay.  With  true  Quaker  thoroughness 
all  keys  of  linen-closet,  store-rooms  and  home- 


170  THE    GOOD    SAMARITAN. 

places  were  sent  to  them,  with  a  sweet  letter  of 
sympathy  and  welcome,  by  the  absent  lady  of 
the  house  ;  and  the  shocked  wife  and  brother 
came  into  a  welcoming  home,  where  every  friendly 
care  was  all  ready  to  save  this  life,  if  possible. 

Stop  here  to  think  of  the  difference  made  by 
one  man's  goodness.  He  could  well  have  gone 
forward  to  his  business  appointment,  first  saying 
a  word  to  the  policeman  always  on  duty,  and  so 
turned  over  to  public  care  the  sick  man.  In  time 
an  ambulance  would  have  taken  the  sick  man  to 
a  hospital  where  he  would  have  had  excellent 
care.  But  before  that  time  the  tongue  would 
have  been  completely  paralyzed. 

And  there  would  have  been  no  clue  to  Mr. 

S 's  identity.  His  family  also  were  in  the 

country  for  the  summer,  and  being  alone  no  one 
knew  he  was  going  for  the  morning  to  the  neigh- 
boring city.  He  had  chanced  to  dress  that  day 
in  a  new  suit  of  thin  clothes  and  left  at  home  all 
usual  papers,  pocket-book,  etc;  a  watch,  purse 
and  pocket-handkerchief  were  all  they  found  on 


THE    GOOD    SAMARITAN.  171 

his  person.  But  for  the  goodness  of  the  other 

traveler  Mr.  S would  have  had  the  fate  of 

"unknown  persons";  men  who  go  out  in  cus- 
tomary careless  confidence  from  a  home  and  are 
never  heard  of  again  —  or  if  traced  will  be  found 
to  have  been  put  away  among  the  unknown  dead. 

Do  as  you  would  be  done  by  is  a  law  to  some 
natures,  and  this  Good  Samaritan  could  not  turn 

from  the  helpless.  He  made  for  Mr.  S the 

difference  between  being  an  unknown  patient  in 
a  hospital  of  a  strange  city,  perhaps  dying  there, 
and  the  kind  home  provided  by  friends  where 
he  had  all  the  skill  of  first-class  physicians  and 
nurses,  as  well  as  the  loving  care  of  his  own 
family,  who  remained  with  him  many  weeks  — 
until  it  was  judged  safe  to  remove  him  to  his 
own  home. 

But  time  only  confirmed  the  earlier  opinion  of 
physicians.  "  Overwork,"  want  of  sleep,  of  ex- 
ercise, of  change  of  ideas,  too  great  absorption 
in  his  business,  brought  on  the  evil  —  some  de- 
rangement of  the  system  which  declared  itself 


172  THE    GOOD    SAMARITAN. 

suddenly  in  paralysis.  They  said  he  might  re- 
gain comfortable  health,  as  he  had  been  a  sound 
man  of  good  habits,  but  that  the  mind,  the  brain, 
was  hurt  beyond  recovery.  They  gave  no  hope 
of  much  change  even  after  the  lapse  of  a  year. 
It  was  a  pitiful  sight  to  see  this  strong  man,  not 
yet  forty,  patiently  rubbing  his  numbed  right 
hand  with  the  left,  and  trying  with  feeble  sounds 
to  pronounce  simple  words. 

The  courage  of  affection  supported  his  family 
in  cheerful  efforts  to  aid  him,  to  guess  at  his 
meaning  during  the  long  interval  when  he  was 
unaware  he  was  using  the  same  few  words  for 
alt  meanings. 

Vain  efforts  to  read  the  newspaper  made  him 
demand  a  spelling-book  —  "  A,  B,  C,"  he  re- 
peated again  and  again. 

"The  letters?" 

"  Yes.     Begin." 

Some  one  guessed  he  meant  he  must  begin  all 
over  again  at  the  beginning,  and  asked  him  if 
that  were  so.  "  Yes,  yes,  yes  —  pretty  soon  "  — 


THE   GOOD   SAMARITAN.  173 

here  he  ran  a  finger  along  the  lines  of  print, 
turned  a  page,  and  seemed  deep  in  reading, 
then  looked  up,  smiling. 

The  grown  people  were  too  sorry  for  him  to 
carry  out  this  well  at  first,  but  a  young  niece 
said  tenderly  :  "  That  will  be  fun,  Uncle  Will. 
I  am  going  to  be  school-mistress,  and  you  must 
mind  me,"  and  day  after  day  the  lovely  blue  eyes 
(often  shining  through  tears)  were  fixed  on 
his,  training  him  to  shape  the  rigid  mouth 
to  articulate,  and  soon  the  form  and  sound 
of  the  letters  were  mastered  and  easy  read- 
ing began  and  it  was  found  that  ideas  were 
being  connected.  The  household  was  in  tears 
of  joy  the  day  a  small  thing  proved  this 
possible. 

"  Mary,  Mary,"  called  one  of  the  ladies,  and 
as  the  maid  did  not  appear,  there  was  another 
call  and  a  wondering  where  she  had  gone. 

"  Gone  school"  said  Will,  with  a  smile,  "got 
lamb"  Once  familiar  sounds  dragged  with  them 
associations  from  out  that  darkened  mind.  Here 


174  THE    GOOD    SAMARITAN. 

was  connection  and  application  of  ideas,  and 
memory. 

One  of  the  sweetest  pictures  of  babyhood  is 
the  dear  little  sleepy  halting  of  the  baby  over 
its  evening  prayer ;  helped  on  by  a  gentle  loving 
voice,  it  remembers  a  word  or  two  and  nods  off 
into  silence  with  "  down  to  sleep  "  as  its  summary 
of  the  whole. 

It  was  pathetic  to  see  this  process  bringing 
out  words,  thoughts,  memories  from  the  patient 
invalid  ;  but  it  was  a  beautiful  use  of  the  healthy 
young  mind  to  bring  to  its  own  level  the  tired- 
out  mind.  New  courage  came  to  all,  and  the 
reading-lessons  were  made  a  game  in  which  all 
took  part  —  carefully,  not  to  overtax  the  new 
strength. 

Cheered  and  encouraged  forward  in  this  way, 

Mr.  S ,  with  intervals  of  languor  and  low 

spirits,  made  progress  in  curious  bursts  of  ad- 
vance. His  physician  was  glad  and  surprised, 
but  not  sanguine,  though  he  knew  Nature  had 
forces  beyond  man's  best  efforts. 


THE    GOOD    SAMARITAN.  175 

To  me,  long  known,  and  now  more  with  them 
than  ever,  he  was  as  off  guard  as  with  the  family. 
He  would  drag  himself  forward  to  meet  me,  his 
newspaper  held  between  the  stiffened  arm  and 
his  breast,  while  with  a  finger  following  the  line 
he  would  read  a  bit  —  slow,  low  reading  like  a 
timid  child  —  followed  by  a  burst  of  triumph: 
"  Yes,  sir !  "  (Every  one  was  "  sir.")  "  Pretty 
soon  !  Pretty  soon  can  speak." 

It  was  years  before  he  got  so  far  as  easily 
connected  ideas  and  fairly  descriptive  speech. 
The  most  singular  side-ideas,  gestures,  point- 
ing to  words  in  print,  all  methods  he  had 
resorted  to  to  make  clear  his  meaning,  and 
his  family,  always  quick-witted,  became  acro- 
bats in  mind,  guessing  marvelously  into  his 
meanings. 

His  last  conscious  effort  had  been  to  give  his 
name.  He  could  only  get  so  far  as  one  syllable, 
"  Will,"  and  that  word  was  now  the  governing 
power  in  regaining  himself. 

Science  had  said  his  case  was  hopeless  beyond 


176  THE   GOOD    SAMARITAN. 

a  fixed  limit.  That  beyond  that  lay  connected 
thought  and  speech. 

But  he  had  reached  the  limit  and  was  deter- 
mined to  go  beyond,  and  in  this  renewed  life 
WILL  was  governing. 

He  had  succeeded  in  mastering  simple  read- 
ing and  gradually  the  mind  re-opened  to  familiar 
subjects.  The  morning  paper  was  his  delight 
and  his  comments  became  more  and  more  clear, 
showing  connected  thought  and  memory.  His 
former  knowledge  of  men  returned,  and  in  his 
own  brief  peculiar  way  he  spoke  of  them.  Of 
one,  a  candidate  for  an  office  of  trust,  he  said, 
"  No,  no  !  Bad  man  "  —  then  taking  some  small 
silver  from  his  pocket  he  laid  it  on  the  table, 
rose,  said  "  Good-by  "  and  walked  out,  to  return, 
and  with  strange  mimicry  of  the  other  man,  look 
hastily  round  the  room  then  hurry  to  the  table 
and  gather  up  the  money  ;  then  reappear  as 
himself  and  go  with  quiet  certainty  for  the  money 
he  had  left.  It  was  gone.  A  moment  of  sur- 
prise, then  shaking  his  fist  toward  the  door,  he 


THE    GOOD    SAMARITAN.  177 

made  clear  his  whole  thought  and  was  triumph- 
ant when  all  cried  out,  as  in  guessing  charades : 

"  He's  a  man  not  to  be  trusted  ? " 

"Yes,  yes  ;  bad  man." 

By  patient  unyielding  will  he  had  learned  to 
write  his  name,  then  fashion  other  strokes,  and 
a  gift  he  had  never  had  began  to  develop.  In 
this  piteous  return  to  childhood  there  had  been 
provided  for  him  pencils  of  colored  wax  and  out- 
line drawings  for  him  to  color. 

He  had  never  had  any  knowledge  of  drawing, 
but  had  a  passion  for  flowers,  and  for  cultivating 
them.  Now,  color  and  flowers  attracted  him.  A 
new  interest  came  into  his  life  when,  after  weary 
repetitions  of  awkward  strokes,  he  could  at  last 
shape  and  color  simple  flowers. 

The  right  hand  remained  dead.  But  the  left 
was  growing  into  a  skill  the  right  never  had. 
This  flower-painting  made  motive  for  his  walks 
to  florists.  He  had  been  shy  of  attracting  notice 
to  his  paralyzed  dragging  walk,  but  in  this  new 
joy  he  would  forget  himself  now.  And  the  shops 


178  THE    GOOD    SAMARITAN. 

where  the  Christmas  and  Easter  cards  blossomed 
out  in  the  windows  came  to  know  well  and  re- 
ceive kindly  the  pale  brave  face  of  the  man  so 
evidently  deprived  of  all  enjoyment  of  life.  He 
would  buy  a  card  of  snow-drops  or  violets,  go 
on  to  the  florists  and  show  it,  and  so  buy  the 
flower  itself  and  coming  home  with  his  treasure 
be  happy  in  painting  it.  The  sharp  irritability 
of  his  disease  was  in  him  and  his  people  suffered 
no  end  of  anxiety  when  he  insisted  on  going  out 
alone.  But  he  was  more  thoughtful  than  they 
had  imagined,  and  —  people  are  good  in  the 
main  —  he  would  often  be  kindly  helped  over 
crossings,  for  the  family  at  first  watched  him 
unseen. 

The  French  Government  aiding  scientific  in- 
quiry into  electricity,  gave  to  Dr.  Charcot  the 
patients  of  the  Bicetre  and  Salpetriere  for  ex- 
periments in  aid  of  nervous  disorders.  At  these 
places  the  insane,  the  degraded  drinking  class, 
especially  the  women  of  that  kind  in  Paris 
are  confined.  The  gentle  mode  of  treatment, 


THE    GOOD    SAMARITAN.  179 

as  well  as  the  subtle  power  of  electricity,  was 
working  miracles  among  these  poor  unhappy 
creatures. 

Our  own  physician  went  over  to  Paris  and 
had  a  long  time  of  study  and  practice  with  Dr. 
Charcot.  Bringing  back  the  first  of  the  new 
electric  machines  and  fully  impressed  with  the 
tried  and  also  the  untried  powers  of  this  new 
application  of  electricity.  Except  among  the 
advanced  few,  however,  it  was  not  more  kindly 
received  than  was  inoculation  in  Lacly  Mary's 
day.  And  so  much  has  always  to  be  left  to  the 
patient.  You  cannot  be  cured  of  anything  in 
spite  of  yourself.  It  takes  two  for  that  more 
than  for  almost  anything.  Even  a  perfect  cli- 
mate cannot  cure  consumptive  girls  who  take 
off  flannels  and  dance  in  bail-dress  late  into  the 
nights.  Only  the  discipline  and  restraints  of  a 
prison  enabled  Dr.  Charcot's  treatment  to  be 
faithfully  carried  out. 

The  case  of  Mr.  S seemed  to  me  a  fair 

one  to  be  benefited  by  this  new  treatment,  and 


l8o  THE    GOOD    SAMARITAN. 

he  would  faithfully  aid  the  physician.  All  that 
good  sense  and  good  firm  will  could  do  would 
be  brought  to  bear  in  aid  to  science. 

He  had  then  been  paralyzed  fourteen  years, 
and  time  was  sadly  against  him,  for  the  muscles 
had  shrunk  and  hardened  and  become  almost 
entirely  useless  in  the  right  side.  The  leg  in 
walking  had  that  curved  outward  swing  as  it  was 
dragged  forward,  resting  on  the  tip  of  the  foot 
—  the  heel  could  not  reach  to  the  ground. 

Well,  this  brave  man  perfectly  understood  he 
was  taking  the  risks  of  an  experiment.  Physi- 
cian and  patient  felt  their  way  together  to  fresh 
efforts  daily.  Great  drops  of  moisture  forced 
their  way  through  the  skin  from  head  to  foot  as 

the  electric  current  was  poured  over  Mr.  S 

or  sharp  shots  from  it  were  fired  into  centers  of 
long  disused  muscles.  But  he  was  never  the 
first  to  say,  "  Hold —  enough  !  " 

To  be  brief,  in  six  weeks  the  muscles  were  re- 
laxed so  that  the  heel  came  down  level  with  the 
front  of  the  foot  and  the  relaxed  leg  was  no 


THE   GOOD    SAMARITAN.  l8l 

longer  flung  out  in  walking.  He  could  now 
walk  no  worse  than  a  man  with  a  very  tight 
boot.  The  right  arm  remained  dead,  but  the 
tongue  was  relaxed,  and  the  desire  of  his  heart 
was  gained,  for  once  more  he  could  speak.  Not 
"as  well  as  ever,"  but  enough.  No  more  need 
of  pantomime  and  elaborate  roundabout  reach- 
ings  for  meaning.  His  whole  health  was  better 
—  was  really  calm  and  good  —  and  the  mind 
calmed. 

With  the  feeling  that  he  no  longer  attracted 
attention,  he  walked  more,  and  without  fatigue. 
The  summers  in  the  country  were  a  new  delight, 
for  botany  had  become  a  resource,  first  for  the 
anatomy  of  his  flowers,  then  for  all  its  beautiful 
belongings.  And  the  practical  man  re-asserted 
himself.  From  small  efforts  he  has  risen  to 
large  and  beautiful  work  as  a  painter  of  flowers 
so  true  to  nature,  so  delicately  beautiful,  that 
they  are  eagerly  bought.  And  it  is  hard  for 
people  to  believe  these  free  natural  flowers  are 
clone  with  the  left  hand  ;  with  the  left  hand  of 


182  THE   GOOD    SAMARITAN. 

a  man  for  years  a  helpless  paralytic,  to  whom 
drawing  was  an  unknown  art  until  in  the  silence 
of  his  benumbed  life  came  the  increasing  inten- 
tion'to  again  become  a  living  man  —  to  be  some- 
thing, to  do  some  sort  of  work,  to  be  once  more 
of  use  in  some  way. 

In  his  former  life  when  he  managed  great 
works  and  governed  many  men  and  made  his 
many,  many  thousands  in  money  he  was  like  the 
most  of  our  business  men  —  too  intent,  too  hur- 
ried and  too  wearied  to  have  any  real  rest.  Now, 
careful  of  health,  and  happy  in  his  beautiful  work, 
he  is  always  at  peace,  and  more  proud  of  the 
money  from  the  sale  of  his  flower  pictures  than 
he  ever  was  of  the  large  gains  from  his  great 
business.  For  he  knows  that  what  his  physician 
told  him  is  true  : 

"  Your  own  will  has  done  more  for  you  than 
even  electricity." 


D.   LOTHROP  COMPANY'S 


BROOKS  (Elbridge  S.),  continued. 

THE    STORY    OF    THE    AMERICAN   INDIAN.*  Svo, 
illustrated,  cloth,  2.50.     In  neat  library  binding  at  same  price. 

A  list  of  the  best  hundred  books  on  the  American  Indian  is  included  in  the  work. 

"  The  volume  does  not  belong  to  the  "  No  better  story  of  the  race  that  has 

'amiliar  type  of  boys'  books  of  adventure  played  a  not  important  part  in  the  drama 

among  the  redskins,  but  is  a   thorough  of  human  progress  has  been  given.     The 

compendium  of  archaeology,  history,  pres-  author  has  certain  definite  moral  convic 

ent  standing  and  outlook  of  our  nation's  tions  on  the   subject   that   he   expresses 

wards.     It  is  clearly  and  concisely  writ-  ably  and  fearlessly." — The    Traveller \ 

ten  and  embodies  a  vast  deal  of  pertinent  Boston, 
information." — Literary    World,   Bos- 
ton. 


THE  STORY  OF  THE  AMERICAN  SAILOR*  Uni- 
form with  the  "Story  of  the  American  Indian."  Illustrations  by 
Bridgman.  Svo,  2.50.  In  neat  library  edition  at  same  price. 

A  list  of  the  best  hundred  books  on  the  American  Sailor  is  included  in  the  work. 

The  complete  story  of  Jack's  daring  endeavor  and  achievement  from  prehistoric 
times  to  the  days  of  the  "  Brave  Old  Salt"  and  the  yacht  Volunteer.  The  result  of 
much  study  and  careful  research,  It  is  nevertheless  as  dashing,  as  brilliant,  as  pictur- 
esque as  Jack  himself,  when  Jack  is  at  his  best.  As  the  first  consecutive  account  ever 
attempted,  it  will  appeal  to  all  lovers  of  blue  water  and  to  all  admirers  of  the  exploits 
of  American  seamen. 

"It  is  the  fact  that  his  fresh,  sealike,  "One  of  the  best  boys'  books  of  the 

lusty  narrative  tells  us  of  the  American  season."  —  Chicago  Dial. 

sailor  in  all  his  phases  that  gives  Mr.  "  Mr.  Brooks  can  load  his  sentences 

Brooks'  book  not  only  its  great  immedt-  with  statements  of  fact  and  there  is  noth- 

ate  charm,  tut  its  permanent  usefulness  as  in^  of  real  consequence  omitted  from  his 

a  study  and  history."  —  Brooklyn  Times.  brief  and  well-written   story."  —  Boston 

"  An  exhilarating,  picturesque  and  en-  Herald. 

tertaining  story  and  yet  one  that  is  prac-  "  Not  only  beautiful,  but   instructive 

deal,  convincing  and  satisfying."  —  New  and  excitingly  entertaining."  —  Chicago 

Haven  Register.  Inter-Ocean. 

THE   STORY   OF  NEW  YORK.*  8vx>,  illustrated,  1.50. 

(VOL.  I.  of  "  The  Story  of  the  States  "  Series.) 

"Mr.  Brooks  has  acquired  a  most  en  vi-  tention  to  the  romantic,  the  heroic  with 

able  reputation  as  a  historic  writer,  in  his  which  the  history  of  every  State  in  the 

'Historic  Boys,'  '  Historic  Girls '  and  in  American     Union     abounds."  —  Boston 

his  brilliant  'Story  of  the  American  In-  Traveller. 

dian,'  and  his  present  volume  will  cer-  "  The  narrative  is  more  like  a  charming 

tainly  add  to  this  reputation.     It  is  what  fireside  legend  told  by  a  grandfather  to 

it  purports  to  be,  a  story  of  the  begin-  eager  children,  than  the  dry  and  pompous 

nings  and  of  the  marvelous  development  chronicles  commonly  labelled   '  history. ' 

of  what  has  come  to  be  the  Empire  State  Having  already  digested  the  writings  of 

of  America  —  and  he  has  made  it  a  most  the   experts — historians,   novelists    and 

interesting  one.     There  are  dull  matters  philosophers  —  who    have     studied    and 

for  the  average  reader  in  the  slow  growth  written  upon  Ne%v  Netherlands  and  Col- 

of    A.nerican   institutions.      These   Mr.  onial,  Revolutionary  and  modern   New 

Brooks  leaves  for  the  antiquarian  to  dwell  York,  Mr.  Brooks  proceeds  to  tell  a  good 

upon  in  detail,  while  he  devotes  more  at-  story."  —  N.  Y.  Critic. 

*  Pecorrmencted  by  the  State  Boards  of  Wisconsin  and  other  States  for  their  publi< 
school  libraries. 


SELECT   LIST  OF   BOOKS. 


BOLTON  (Sarah  K.). 

HOW  SUCCESS   IS  WON.*  I2mo,  i.oo. 

A  fine  portrait  accompanies  each  biography. 

"  Short  sketches  of  the  lives  of  Peter 
Cooper,  Johns  Hopkins,  the  poet  Whit- 
tier,  William  Hunt,  Thomas  Edison, 


Gough,  John  Wanamaker,  and  a  few 
others.  Mrs.  Bolton  has  done  her  work 
charmingly,  uniting  the  events  of  typical 
lives,  for  which  the  world  is  better  that 
they  have  lived  in  it,  with  the  strong, 
impressive  lessons  of  the  supremacy  of 
character  over  mere  achievement,  and 
that  the  only  worthy  achievements  are 
those  wrought  out  from  high  purpose 
and  noble  motive.  .  .  .  No  belter 
book  could  be  put  into  the  hands  of 
young  people  than  Mrs.  Bolton's  stories 
af  '  How  Success  is  Won.'  She  shows 
how  the  thing  we  name  success  is  the 
result  of  earnest,  honest  industry,  of  pure 


purpose,  of  lofty  aim,  and  the  book 
is  a  mental  and  moral  tonic."  —  Boston 
Traveller. 

"  Nothing  can  be  finer  or  truer  than 
the  biography  of  Peter  Cooper.  It  is  a 
prose  poem,  affecting  the  reader  with 
strong,  noble  and  emulative  impulses." 
—  Cleveland  Leader. 

"  I  wish  the  book  could  circulate  a 
million  copies.  I  know  of  no  book  so 
inspiring  to  a  boy  or  a  poor  deserving 
man."  —  HEZEKIAH  BUTTERWORTH, 
Editor  Youth's  Companion. 

"  The  book  is  a  success.  The  stories 
are  told  charmingly.  I  believe  in  circu- 
lating such  a  stimulus  to  industry,  per- 
sistence and  good  habits. "  —  KATE  SAN- 
BORN. 


SOCIAL    STUDIES     IN    ENGLAND.      I2mo,  illustrated 


i  oo. 

"  '  Social  Studies  in  England  '  is  packed 
with  interesting  matter  concerning  the 
efforts  in  progress  in  that  country  for  the 
education  of  women  and  the  dispensation 
of  charity.  Its  several  chapters  deal 
with  the  higher  education  of  women  at 
Cambridge,  at  Oxford,  the  London  Uni- 
versity, University  College,  and  in  the 
art  schools;  with  the  new  avenues  of 
work  opened  to  women  in  the  practice  of 
needlework,  decorative  art,  floriculture, 
business,  etc. ;  with  the  special  charities 
tinder  the  charge  of  Agnes  K.  Weston, 
Mrs.  Spurgeon,  Miss  De  Broen,  and 


others ;  and  with  various  London  chari- 
ties, the  Peabody  homes,  working-men's 
colleges,  post-office  savings  banks,  coop- 
erative societies,  etc.,  etc.  Mrs.  Bolton 
spent  two  years  in  England  investigating 
the  subjects  of  which  she  treats,  and  had 
access  to  all  sources  of  information  relat- 
ing to  them."  —  Chicago  Dial. 

"  '  Social  Studies'  contains  many  use- 
ful hints  for  the  thousands  of  ladies  who 
are  making  such  praiseworthy  efforts  to 
support  themselves."— Literary  World, 
London. 


SOME    SUCCESSFUL    WOMEN. 

traits.     I2mo,  i.oo.     (4) 

"  It  consists  of  twelve  brief  biograph- 
ies of  American  women  who  have  in 
various  walks  and  professions  earned 
success  so  marked  as  to  make  their  names 
familiar  to  every  household  in  the  coun- 
try, and  who  have  done  much  to  inspire 
Others  of  their  sex  to  follow  in  their  foot- 
Steps.  Among  them  are  Marion  Har- 
land  (Mrs.  Terhune) ;  Mrs.  G.  R.  Alden 
[Pansy);  Clara  Barton,  the  philanthrop- 
ist; Alice  Freeman,  the  president  of 
Welleslev  College ;  Rachel  Bodley,  dean 
of  the  Woman's  Medical  College,  Phila- 
delphia ;  Frances  E.  Willard,  whose 
labors  in  behalf  of  temperance  have  given 
her  a  place  among  the  foremost  of  Amer- 
ican women ;  Mrs.  Candace  Wheeler  and 


Illustrated  with    por» 


her  daughter  Dora,  who  have  done  so 
much  to  develop  the  love  for  decorative 
art  in  this  country,  and  to  create  oppor- 
tunities for  its  practical  application ;  with 
others  who  have  gained  equally  distin- 
guished places  in  other  departments  of 
art,  literature  and  industry."  —  Boston 
Transcript. 

"  It  is  good  readine  for  plain  men  and 
will  help  all  sensible  women."  —  Boston 
Beacon. 

"  It  should  have  a  place  on  every 
book  shelf."  —  Providence  Telegram. 

"  The  young  woman  who  is  struggling 
hard  with  adverse  circumstances  will  find 
much  to  inspire  her  with  new  courag» 
and  hope."— Detroit  Free  Press. 


*  Recommended  by  the  State  Board  of  Wisconsin  for  the  public  school  libraries. 


.    LOTH  HOP  COMPANY'S 


YONGE  (Charlotte  M.). 

LANCES  OF  LYNWOOD.     I2mo,  illustrated,  i.co.     (4) 

Recommended  by  the  State  Boards  of  several  States  for  their  public  school  libraries 

"'The  Lances  of  Lynwcod'  is  con-  "  It  is  full  of  the  ring  and  romance  OL 

structed  of  fourteenth-century  materials  the   feudal  ages,   describing  the    bright 

gathered  from  historical  and  legendary  side   and    ennobling  influences  of  cfuv 

granaries.     It  is  one  of  the  best  books  airy." — Living  Church,  Chicago, 

for  our  boys  and  girls.     It  opens  up  his-  "There*  is  a  true  adherence  to  nature 

tory,  quickens  the  imagination  and  fixes  and  great  dramatic  skill  displayed  in  tli« 

the  love  of  reading."  —  Syracuse  Stan-  exhibition  of  character"  —  North  Brit- 

dard.  ish  Review. 

GOLDEN  DEEDS.  I2mo,  illustrated,  cloth,  i.oo;  gilt  top, 
1.25.  (4) 

Heroic  and  noble  actions  mostly  culled  out  of  history,  making  fifty  different  tales  or 
lofty  duty,  for  young  and  old. 

THE  PRINCE  AND  THE  PAGE.      i2mo,  illustrated,  i.oo 

(4) 

A  story  of  the  Last  Crusade. 

THE  LITTLE  DUKE  :  Richard  the  Fearless.  ismo,  illns 
trated,  i.oo.  (4) 

LITTLE  LUCY'S  WONDERFUL  GLOBE.  23  f ull-pag« 
illustrations,  I2mo,  cloth,  .75. 

HISTORICAL  SERIES. 

Recommended  by  the  State  Boards  of  several  States  for  their  paWk:  school  rrbrarfes 
Miss  Yonge,  while  always  boldly  and  continuously  outlining  the  course  of  historical 
events,  has  the  knack  of  seizing  upon  incidents  which  reveal  the  true  character  of  his 
torical  personages,  so  that  these  volumes  are  eminently  calculated  to  teach  as  well  as 
to  interest.  The  language  fe  simple  yet  expressive,  the  freedom  of  treatment  bold  yet 
accurate.  The  characters  appear  and  disappear  with  all  the  serious  brevity  of  moving 
time,  and  seem  to  speak  for  themselves. 

YOUNG  FOLKS'  BIBLE  HISTORY.  I2mo,  illustrated. 
1.50. 

"  The  author  presents  in  her  dramatic  "  One  of  the  best  books  for  its  purpose 

style  many  of  the  striking  incidents  and  which    we    have    found." — Christisut, 

stories  of  the  sacred  book.     It  is  not  only  Register. 

entertaining,  but  as  fascinating  as  any  "We  shall  be  much  mistaken  if  this 

romance,  yet  nothing  of  the  spirit  of  the  book  does  not  prove  to  be  useful  in  many 

Eible  is  disturbed,  and  the  lesson  is  only  homes,  in  fixing  the  facts  of  Scripture 

more  vividly  brought  out  by  the  genius  history  in  the  young  minds  and  in  giving 

erf  the  artist." —  Western  Educational  them  a  good  persoective  of  that  history 

Journal,  Chicago.  as  a  whole. "  —  Independent,  New  York. 

YOUNG    FOLKS'    HISTORY    OF    ENGLAND.     i2mo, 

illustrated,  1.50. 

Beginning  with  a  period  prior  to  the  Christian  era,  it  outlines  English  history 
through  the  vicissitudes  of  the  Roman,  Danish  and  Norman  invasions,  through  the 
subsequent  civil  strifes,  and  a  large  portion  of  the  peaceful  reign  of  the  good  Victoria 
Only  those  facts  are  presented  which  are  at  once  most  picturesque,  most  interesting 
and  most  easily  comprehended.  In  the  hands  of  the  young  it  is  an  irresistible  tempta- 
tion to  history. 

YOUNG  FOLKS'  HISTORY  OF  FRANCE.  i2mo,  illus 
trated,  1.50. 

To  arrange  the  confused  facts  of  French  history  in  such  an  order  as  to  make  then? 
comprehensible  to  children  is  a  difficult  task.  Miss  Yonge  has  undertaken  to  do  this 
and  has  succeeded  admirably.  She  has  done  more  than  tell  an  interesting  story,  for 
she  has  attached  some  real  characteristic  to  each  reign,  and  has  translated  the  leading 
political  motives  into  something  that  cau  enter  an  intellect  of  seven  or  eight  years  oki 


SELECT   LIST  OF    BOOKS. 


EASTMAN   (Julia   A.). 

Miss  Eastman  has  a  large  circle  of  young  admirers.  She  carries  off  the  palm  as  n 
writer  of  school-life  stories,  and  teachers  are  always  glad  to  find  their  scholars  reading 
Miss  Eastman's  books.  Her  style  is  characterized  by  quick  movements,  sparkling 
expression  and  incisive  knowledge  of  human  nature. 


KITTY  KENT'S  TROUBLES.     T2mo,  illustrated,  1.25.  (5N, 

"  Miss  Eastman,  it  will  be  remembered,  live  of  her  trials  and  experiences  is  in 

took  the  prize  of  one   thousand  dollars  tended  as  a  guide  and  help  to  other  girls 

offered  several  years  ago  by  this  house.  who  have  those  of  the  same  kind  to  con 

The  heroine  of  the  present  book  is  the  tend  with,  and  to  impress  upon  them  the 

daughter  of  a  clergyman,  'a  girl  who  was  lesson  that  'the  only  road  to  happiness 

neither  all  good  nor  all  bad,  but  partly  the  lies  through  the  land  of  goodness."'—  N 

one  and  partly  the  other  '  ;  and  the  uarra-  E.  Journal  of  Education. 


STRIKING  FOR  THE  RIGHT.     I2mo,  illustrated,  1.2 5.  (3; 

A  story  illustrating  the  necessity  of  kindness  to  animals.  The  pupils  of  the  Eastford 
High  School  form  a  humane  society  which  does  a  noble  work. 

A  Premium  of  $1000  was  awarded  the  author  for  this  MS.  by  the  examining  committee. 

SHORT   COMINGS  AND   LONG  GOINGS.     i2mo,  ilius^ 
trated,  1.25. 
The  ups  and  downs  of  wide-awake  boy  and  girl  life  in  a  country  home. 

SCHOOLDAYS  OF  BEULAH  ROMNEY.  I2mo,  illus 
trated,  1.25.  (5) 

An  aged  Christian  woman  befriends  a  dozen  careless  schoolgirls  and  helps  them  ou; 
of  the  many  troubles  that  invade  their  lives 

YOUNG  RICK.  I2mo,  12  full-page  illustrations  by  SOL 
Eytinge,  Jr.,  1.25  (5) 

Young  Rick  was  a  genuine  boy,  mischievous  and  motherless.  Aunt  Lesbia,  with 
whom  he  lived,  was  not  used  to  children  and  found  it  no  easy  task  to  look  after  him, 
In  the  end,  however,  her  kindness  and  good  sense  made  a  man  of  him. 

THE  ROMNEYS  OF  RIDGEMONT.  I2mo,  illustrated, 
1-25.  (5) 

A  story  of  the  New  England  hills ;  of  sugaring  and  haymow  conferences  and  old- 
fashioned  picnics. 

EASY  READING. 

Chromo  on  side.     Numerous  illustrations,  6  vols.,  i8mo,  1.50. 
EASY  READING.  NATURAL  HISTORY. 

BIRDS  AND  FISHES.  ILLUSTRATED  PRIMER. 

BOOK  OF  ANIMALS.  BOOK  OF  IJIRDS. 


D.    LOTHROP  COMPANY'S 


WONDER  STORIES  OF  SCIENCE. 

By  Rev.   D.   N.   Beach,  Amanda  B.   Harris,  Mary  W.  Fisher  and 
others.     I2mo,  fully  illustrated,  1.25.     (5) 

Recommended  by  the  State  Board  of  Minnesota  and  other  States  for  use  in  their 
public  school  libraries. 

"  Twenty  one   charming  sketches  are  ers  are  made,  another,  where  and  how 

included  in  this  little  volume.     The  boys  umbrellas  are  made,  etc,  etc.     There  is 

can  make  an  excursion  in  a  balloon,  the  a   great  deal  of  information   to  bi  ofc 

girls  can  spend  an  afternoon  in  a  Christ-  tained  in  this  little  book,  and   all   jn   a 

mas    card    factory,   or  they  can    go  to  wonderfully  delightful  way." — Christian. 

another  factory  and  see  how  numberless  Observer,  Louisville,  Kyt 
women  earn  their  living  by  making  dolls'  "It    is  as    interesting  as  fiction."-' 

shoes.     One  chapter  tells  how  newspap-  Ziori 's  Herald,  Boston. 

WONDER  STORIES  OF  TRAVEL. 

1 2mo,  fully  illustrated,  1.25.     (5) 

Recommended  by  the  State  Board  of  Minnesota  and  other  States  for  use  in  their 
public  school  libraries. 

Tales  written  by  several  writers  in  which  peculiarities  of  people  and  things  abroad 
are  brought  out. 

"  It  is  in  a  line  of  books  peculiar  to  this  and  several  of  its  class  from  these  ynib- 
house,  in  being  intended  to  agreeably  lishers,  has  special  claims  upon  parents 
teach  the  young  how  to  see  and  enjoy  the  who  seek  to  direct  the  reading  of  their 
earth  and  life  about  them.  This  book,  young."  —  Boston  Globe. 

WOODS  (Kate  Tannatt). 

SIX  LITTLE  REBELS.  I2mo,  illustrated  by  Boz,  1.50. 

"  This  is  a  story  of  boys  and  girls  dur-  sorrows,  their  visits  to  Boston  and  sum. 

ing  the  first  years  of  our  Civil  War.     The  mers  by  the  sea  in  Massachusetts,  with 

'  little  rebels '  were  five   boys,   brothers  the  sombre  war  cloud  hanging  over  all, 

and  cousins,  and  a  colored  servant,  a  veri-  and  giving  an  undertone  of  pathos  to  the 

table   male  Topsy,  who  were  sent  from  narrative,  is  charmingly  told.     Glimpses 

Richmond  to    Washington  and    placed  are  caught  here  and  there  of  President 

under  the  guardianship  of  a  go<.d  doctor  Lincoln,  General  McClellan  and  other 

there,  an   old  friend    of    their  parents.  famous  persons." — Worcester  Spy. 
.   .    .   The  story  of  their  pranks  and  their 

DOCTOR  DICK  (A  Sequel  to  "Six  Little  Rebels ").  I2mo, 
illustrated  by  Boz,  1.50. 

OUT  AND  ABOUT;  or,  The  Hudsons'  Trip  to  the  Pacific. 
Square  8vo,  cloth  1.75;  boards,  1.25.  (5) 

Cape  Cod  to  the  Golden  Gate  with  a  lot  of  young  folks  along  and  plenty  of  yarns  by 
the  way.  Pictures  of  now  and  then  a  sight,  but  a  great  deal  more  in  the  types- 

WOODS  (William  S.). 
HOW  BENNY  DID  IT.     I2mo,  1.25.     (5) 

The  writer  of  this  story  is  a  business  man  of  long  experience,  and  he  was  moved  to 
its  preparation  by  a  fact  which  experience  had  shown  him  that  there  is  much  in  cur- 
rently received  business  principles —  even  among  those  whom  we  call  good  men  —  that 
is  wrong,  and  so  wrong  as  to  be  not  only  injurious  to  him  upon  whom,  but  by  whom 
committed.  He  places  the  hero  of  the  story,  Bennie  Stout,  in  positions  to  exemplify 
this  fact,  and  to  show  how  a  boy  of  good  principle  and  a  strong  will  cannot  only  rear' 
temptation  himself,  but  can  even  exert  an  influence  over  his  elders. 


SELECT  LIST  OF  BOOKS. 


FAITH  AND  ACTION. 

Selections  from  the  writings  of  F.  D.  Maurice.  With  preface  by 
Rev.  Phillips  Brooks,  D.  D.  i2mo,  i.oo. 

Few  English  clergymen  are  better  known  in  this  country  than  Frederic  D.  Maurice, 
whose  untimely  death,  some  years  ago,  deprived  not  only  England,  but  the  Christian 
world,  of  one  of  its  ablest  religious  teachers.  He  devoted  a  great  deal  of  his  time  to 
the  social  and  religious  needs  of  the  common  people. 

Maurice  was  a  dear  friend  of  Tennyson.  The  following  lines  in  one  of  the  poet's 
bent-known  pieces  /ef er  to  his  friend : 

"  How  best  to  help  the  slender  store, 
How  mend  the  dwellings  of  the  poor, 
How  gain  in  life  as  life  advances, 
Valor  and  charity  more  and  more.'* 

FARMAN  (Ella).     (Mrs.  C.  S.  Pratt.) 

Ella  Farman  is  the  editor  of  WIDE  AWAKE,  and  her  books  are  full  of  sympathy  with 
girl-life,  always  sunshiny  and  "hopeful,  always  pointing  out  new  ways  to  do  things  and 
unexpected  causes  for  happiness  and  gladness. 

THE     COOKING-CLUB     OF    TU-WHIT    HOLLOW. 

I2mo,  illustrated.  1.25. 

The  practical  instructions  in  housewifery,  which  are  abundant,  are  set  in  the  midst 
of  a  bright  wholesome  story.  Girls  who  read  this  book  will  not  be  able  to  keep  house 
at  once,  but  they  will  learn  to  do  some  things,  and  they  will  have  an  hour  or  two  of 
genuine  pleasure  in  discovering  how  there  came  to  be  a  cooking-club  and  in  tracing  its 
history. 

GOOD-FOR-NOTHING  POLLY.     I2mo,  illustrated,  i.oo. 

Polly  is  not  a  girl  at  all,  but  a  boy,  a  slangy,  school-hating,  fun-lov'ng,  wilful,  big- 
fiearted  boy.  "  Nagged  "  continually  at  home,  he  wastes  his  time  upon  the  streets  and 
finally  runs  away.  The  book  tells  of  his  adventures.  Mrs.  Pratt  has  a  keen  insight 
into  the  joys  and  sorrows  of  the  little  appreciated  boy-life.  Like  Robert  J.  Burdette, 
she  is  a  master  of  humor  and  often  touches  a  tender  chord  of  pathos.  Every  boy  will 
be  delighted  with  this  book  and  every  mother  ought  to  read  it  who  is,  all  unwittingly 
perhaps,  "freezing  "  her  own  noisy  boy  out  of  the  home. 

"  '  Good-for-Nothing  Polly '  will  doubt-        England  as  it  has  already  done  in  the 
less    gain  the  admiration   and  win    the         United  States."  —  Bookseller t  London, 
graces  of  as  large  a  circle  of  readers  in 

HOW  TWO  GIRLS  TRIED  FARMING.  I2mo,  illustrated, 
t.oo. 

A  narrative  of  an  actual  experience. 

"The  two  girls  who  tried  farming  pigs  and  chickens,  and  as  they  do  every- 
solved  a  problem  by  taking  the  bull  by  thing  to  the  best  of  their  ability,  their 
the  horns,  and  that  is  often  as  effectual  a  products  are  in  constant  demand."  —  Si. 
means  as  can  be  resorted  to.  They  had  Louis  Post  Despatch. 
for  capital  one  thousand  dollars.  With  "  We  recommend  it  to  those  girls  who 
this  they  bought  thirty-five  acres  of  are  wearing  out  their  lives  at  the  sewing- 
scraggy  farm  land.  Then  they  hired  out  machine,  behind  counters  or  even  at  the 
as  lady  help  for  the  winter  and  laid  by  teacher's  desk."  —  New  York  Herald. 
enough  money  to  buy  clover  seed,  and  a  "  The  success  of  the  farm  is  almost 
horse  and  a  few  other  necessities.  Dolly  surpassed  by  the  charm  of  the  record, 
had  learned  to  plough  and  harrow  and  It  shows  a  touch  of  refinement  and  a 
make  hay,  and  even  to  cut  wood.  Both  degree  of  literary  skill  no  less  uncommon 
girls  worked  hard  and  it  is  pleasant  to  than  the  enterprise  which  has  converted 
Chronicle  their  success.  Now  they  have  a  bleak  hill-top  of  Michigan  into  a  smil- 
a  prosperous  farm,  and  raise  cows,  sheep,  ing  garden." —  New  York  Tribune. 


D.    LOTHROP  COMPANY'S 


posed 
Will.' 


ALLEN  (Willis  Boyd). 

PINE    CONES.     12010.  illustrated,  i.oo. 

"  Pine  Cones  sketches  the  adventures  time.     It  will  make  old  blood  run  warmer 

of  a  dozen  wide-awake  boys  and  gills  in  and  revive  old  times  to  hear  them  whoop 

the  woods,  along  the  streams  and  over  and   see   them   scamper.      No    man   or 

the  mountains.     It  is   good,  wholesome  woman   has  a  right  to  grow  tuo  old  to 

reading  that  will  make  boys  nobler  and  enjoy  seeing  the  ycung  enjoy  the  spring 

girls  gentler.     It  has  nothing  of  the  over-  days  of  life.     It  is  a  breezy,  joyous,  en- 

goody  flavor,  but  they  are  simply  honest,  tertaining  book,  and  we  commend  it  to 

live,    healthy    young    folks,    with    warm  our  young   readers."  —  Chicago   Inter- 

blood  in  their  veins  and  good  impulses  Ocean. 
in  their  hearts,  and  are  out  for  a  good 

SILVER   RAGS.      I2mo,  illustrated,  i.oo. 

"  Silver  Rags  is  a  continuation  of  "  Mr.  Willis  Bpyd  Allen  is  one  of  our 

Pine  Cones  and  is  quite  as  delightful  finest  writers  of  juvenile  fiction.  There 

reading  as  its  predecessor.  The  story  is  an  open  frankness  in  Mr.  Allen's 

describes  a  jolly  vacation  in  Maine,  and  characters  which  render  them  quite  as 

the  sayings  and  doings  of  the  city  boys  novel  as  they  are  interesting,  and  his 

and  girls  are  varied  by  short  stories,  sup-  simplicity  of  style  makes  the  whole  story 

sed  to  be  told  by  a  good-natured'  Uncle  as  fresh  and  breezy  as   the   pine  woods 

ill.'"  —  The  Watchman,  Boston.  themselves."  —  Boston  Herald. 

THE    NORTHERN    CROSS.     I2mo,  illustrated,  i.oo. 

"  The  Northern  Cross,  a  story  of  the  idea  of  the    Northern    Cross  for  young 

Boston    Latin    School    by    Willis   Boyd  crusaders  gives  an  imaginary  tinge  to  the 

Allen,  is  a  capital  book  for   boys.     Be-  healthy  realism."  —  Boston  Journal. 
ginning  with  a  drill  upon  Boston  Com-  "  Mr.  Willis  Boyd  Allen  appeals  to  a 

mon,  the  book  continues  with  many  inci-  large  audience  when  he  tells  a  story  of 

dents  of  school  life.     There  are   recita-  the  Boston  Latin  School  in  the  last  year 

tions,  with  their  successes  and  failures,  of  Master  Gardnet's  life.     And  even  to 

drills  and  exhibitions.     Over  all  is  Dr.  those  who   never   had   the   privilege   of 

Francis    Gardner,  the   stern,    eccentric,  studying  there  the  story  is  pleasant  and 

warm-hearted  Head  Master,  whom  once  lively."  —  Boston  Post. 
to  meet  was  to  remember  forever!     The 

KELP  :     A  Story  of  the  Isle  of  Shoals.   I2mo,  illustrated,  i.oo. 

This  is  the  latest  of  the  Pine  Cone  Series  and  introduces  the  same  characters.  Their 
adventures  are  now  on  a  lonely  little  island,  one  of  the  Shoals,  where  they  camp  out 
and  have  a  glorious  time  not  unmarked  by  certain  perilous  episodes  which  heighten 
the  interest  of  the  story.  It  is  really  the  best  of  a  series  of  which  all  are  delightful 
reading  for  young  people. 

"  It  is  a  healthful,  clean,  bright  book,  fully  through  the  veins  of  young  read- 
which  will  make  the  blood  course  health-  ers."  —  Chicago  Inter-Ocean. 

ANAGNOS  (Julia  R.). 

PHILOSOPHISE  QU/ESTOR;  or,  Days  at  Concord.  I2tno, 
60  cents. 

In  this  unique  book,  Mrs.  Julia  R.  Anagnos,  one  of  the  accomplished  daughters  of 
Julia  Ward  Howe,  presents,  'under  cover  of  a  pleasing  narrative,  a  sketch  of  the 
Emerson  session  of  the  Concotd  School  of  Philosophy.  It  has  for  its  frontispiece  an 
excellent  picture  of  the  building  occupied  by  this  renowned  school. 

"The  seeker  of  philosophical   truth,  in  which  the  last  two  sessions  of  the 

who  is  described  as  the  shadowy  figure  of  Concord   School    of   Philosophy,   which 

a  young  girl,  is  throughout  very  expres-  include  that  in  memory  of  Emerson,  and 

sive  of  desire  and  appreciation.     The  im-  its  lecturers  excite  her  feelings  and  inspire 

pressions  she  receives  are  those  to  which  her  thought.     It  is  sung  in  lofty  strains 

such  a  condition  are  most  sensitive  —  the  that  resemble  those  of  the  sacred  woods 

higher  and  more  refined  ones  —  and  the  and  fount,  and  themselves  are  commimi- 

responsive  thoughts  concern  the  nature  cative  of  their  spirit.     It  will  be  welcomed 

and  character  of  what  is  heard  or  felt.  as  an  appropriate   souvenir."  —  Boston 

Mrs.  Anagnos  has  written  a  prose  poem,  Globe. 


SELECT   LIST  OF   BOOKS. 


BALLADS  OF   ROMANCE    AND   HISTORY. 

By  Susan  Cool^ge,  Mrs.  Whitney,  Harriet  P.  Spofford  and  others. 
Illustrated  by  Garrett,  Barnes,  Sandham,  Taylor  and  F.  Childe 
Hassam.  4to,  2.50. 

"A  picturesque  at. d  interesting  work  A  D.  T.  Whitney,  Sarah  Orne  Jewett, 
It  might  be  said  th'i'.  unity  is  not  possi-  Margaret  Sidney  and  Lucy  Larcom,  and 
ble  when  many  aut'iors,  instead  of  one,  illustrated  by  W.  L.  Taylor,  H.  Sand- 
treat  a  subject,  but  in  this  volume  the  ham  and  George  Foster  Barnes,  The  bal- 
contnbutors  are  well  -known  authors,  who  lads  number  twelve. "  —  Boston  Journal. 
enter  into  the  spirit  of  the  subject  with  "  It  is  a  holiday  book  indeed,  rich  in 
remarkable  unanimity,  and  artists  of  ac-  beauty,  sterling  in  merit." — Book  Ac- 
knowledged me' it.  Different  episodes  ord,  N.  Y. 

in  mediaeval  and  modern  history  are  told  "  It  is  a  volume  more  than  ordinarily 

in  stirring  versa.     Bravery  and  chivalry  attractive,  for  the  ballads  are  such  as  will 

are    vividly    illustrated    in    the    artist's  stir  the  best  and  noblest  emotions  in  the 

spirited  conceptions  of  the  poet's  tales.  young  heart  and  stimulate  its  best  facul- 

The  leading  poem,  '  Little  Alix,'  a  story  ties.     They  form  a  rarely  exquisite  col- 

of  the  children's  crusade,  by  Susan  Cool-  lection.     They  are  replete  with  beauty, 

idge,  is  illustrated  by  Edmund  H    Gar-  grace  and  tenderness,  both  ballads  and 

rett,    who   also   furnishes  the  drawings  pictures,  and  will  arouse  older  readers  to 

of  '  The  Stnry  of  the  Chevalier,'  by  Har-  responsive   interest   and  admiration   by 

riet  Pre»cott  Spofford.     Poems  of  New  their  touching  force." — Boston  Times 
England  history  are  contributed  by  Mrs. 

BAMFORD  (Mary  E.). 

LOOK- ABOUT  CLUB.  410,  cloth,  illustrated,  1.50;  boards, 
1.25. 

Recommended  by  the  State  Board  of  Minnesota  and  other  States  for  their  public 
school  libraries. 

The  Look-about  Club  is  a  party  of  children  who  know  very  little  about  natural 
history. 

"  The  author  is  an  enthusiastic  stu-  For  a  book  to  both  please  and  instruct 
dent  of  natural  history.  The  young  peo-  the  young  it  is  a  decided  success."  — 
pie  form  a  little  natural  history  club  with  Boston  Times. 

the  aim  of  finding  out  new  facts  about  "  So  artfully  blended  with  amusement 

animals,  insects  and  other  living  creat-         and  '  a  lovely  time '  that  the  most  per- 
ures,  and  their  fathor  presides  over  their         verse  of  younglings  could  scarce  detect 
investigations,  rendering  occasional  ad-         or  flout  it."  —  Providence  Journal. 
vice  and  instruction.     The  book  is  very  "  It  is  pleasantly  written,  and  is  among 

bright  and  readable  and  crammed  with  the  best  of  the  books  we  have  seen  which 
curious  facts  illustrative  of  the  intelli-  are  intended  to  inferfst  small  children  in 
gence  of  the  lower  orders  of  animal  life.  natural  history."  —  The  Nation,  N.  Y. 

THE  SECOND  YEAR  OF  THE  LOOK-ABOUT  CLUB 

4to,  cloth,  illustrated,  1.50. 

The  Look- About  Club,  grown  wiser  and  more  observing  by  the  first  year's  expe.i- 
ence  in  the  study  of  Natural  History,  take  up  the  work  of  the  second  year  with  a  zest 
that  brings  them  a  large  measure  of  success. 

MY  LAND  AND  WATER  FRIENDS.  4to, boards,  1.25; 
cloth,  1.50.  Nearly  two  hundred  original  drawings  by  L.  J.  Bridgman. 

Recommended  by  the  State  Board  of  Minnesota  and  other  States  for  their  public 
school  libraries. 

An  out-door  book  giving  delicious  little  accounts  of  strange  and  familiar  creatures. 

"  She   has   not  only  imparted   a  vast        invested  them  with  a  personality  which 
deal  of  intensely  interesting  information        will  make  children  more  humane  in  their 
about  the  common  insects  and  animals        treatment    of    them."  —  Boston    2'r*n- 
which  we  meet  with  every  day,  but  by        script. 
nuking  them  tell  their  own  story  she  has 


